Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor
by Gawaine
Summary: Sequel to the Armor of Gryffindor. While Harry may be the one fated to defeat Voldemort, his friends have a role to play as well. Hermione needs to find the strength to stand on her own against a new evil, while Harry continues to take on He Who Must Not
1. At Home With the Grangers

**Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor**

Summary: Harry believes that he is ready to face Voldemort, and he's losing track of all of the other challenges that Hogwarts has to offer. When his friends have to step in, they may find that they are more important to the future of the Wizarding World than they could have thought possible.

A/N - The Amulet of Yendor is from NetHack (and a suite of related games)

Chapter One - At Home
    
    
    "Today, if you are not confused, you are just not thinking
    clearly."
    --U. Peter
    

Summers were a time of loneliness for Hermione Granger, except for those brief respites earned when she was able to spend time with her friends from Hogwarts. This summer looked like it would be the loneliest of all.

Her parents had spent the last year living in a strange home, which was under a charm by Dumbledore to make it nearly impossible to find. Their new home wasn't on the Floo Network, and although owls could still come and go, Hermione wasn't allowed to leave the house at all until school started in the autumn.

In a way, she couldn't blame her parents for their caution. After all, the person whose home she had lived with two summers ago, Sirius Black, had died, and this year, her friendship with Harry had resulted in her being assaulted and nearly eaten by an Arachneataur, a giant half-spider created by Salazar Slytherin. But she would have hoped for some trust on their part.

Since both of her parents worked, she spent most of her days entirely alone, with only Crookshanks to keep her company. She was able to talk with Harry by telephone occassionally, when the Dursleys were all out of the house, at least until he went to the Burrow for the rest of the summer. She couldn't talk to Ron at all, except in letters, and those were less than satisfactory.

Hermione couldn't fault Ron for his number of letters, at least. He wrote every day, in response to each of her letters. She couldn't even fault the length of his replies. He always filled at least a page -- Ginny had made it clear that she was responsible for that. There was something missing, though. Three little words that he still hadn't said out loud, or on paper. "I Love You."

He had done everything but say the words. She knew that he had spent several days by her bedside in the Hospital Ward, and that he had gone into combat against the Arachneataur fully believing that he would die as a result. Then there were the kisses that they had shared... He couldn't have done anything more to show how he felt, other than just telling her.

Hermione didn't know what she was to Ron -- was she just a friend that he occasionally gave long, lingering kisses to, or was she something more significant?

The flap of an owl's wings signalled the arrival of Hedwig. She came bearing several letters, which probably meant that Harry had reached the Burrow. Since his birthday was two days ago, that wasn't a huge surprise. She took the letters from Hedwig, and slipped her an owl treat, rubbing the beautiful snow-owl's head. She let the owl perch on the umbrella stand near the kitchen table while she waited for a response. 

"Let's see what they have to say today," she said. She decided to leave Ron's letter for second, in hopes of ending on a high-note if the clueless bloke managed to say the right thing.

She quickly concluded, skimming the letter, that she had made the right choice. She murmered a few of the phrases out loud to herself as she read. "Dreaming again... saw Wormtail being tortured... interesting." Apparently, despite his Occulumancy training, Harry had gotten what seemed like a vision straight from Voldemort, although he hadn't substantiated it yet. Harry seemed concerned that Voldemort had meant him to see it, but Hermione wasn't as concerned by that. She was concerned that he was seeing anything at all.

Hermione couldn't see what seeing Wormtail being tortured would do to Harry. She knew that Harry sometimes wished that he had let Sirius kill the rat back in their fourth year, since saving his life had led to a most unfortunate chain of events. While the idea of watching anyone being tortured was sickening, she was sure that Voldemort could have come up with a better image to work with than Wormtail.

Despite that, if Voldemort was piercing Harry's defenses at all, then they had a problem. She put the letter down on the table, and pulled at her lip absentmindedly, wondering what she could do to help. Professor Dumbledore was, without a doubt, the best person to teach Harry Occulumancy, but he had declared last year that Harry had learned all that he could. Hermione wondered if that was because Harry had learned all that was possible, or if there was something that stood in the way of further learning. She thought that was probably a question that only Professor Dumbledore could address, however. 

She decided to write the Headmaster right away, on Harry's behalf. She hated going behind his back, but she didn't think that Harry would even consider going. She'd tell Dumbledore herself, and hopefully he would do something about the problem. She just had one other thing to do first.

She felt guilty putting Ron's letter above writing for Harry's sake, but she hoped that there would be some payoff from reading the letter. She opened it, and a small picture fell out. It was a Muggle picture from an instant camera, with a small part of someone's thumb covering a part of the image.

Hermione looked at it, and grew almost numb with anger. The picture started to grow warm, with wisps of smoke coming from the edges. She dropped it on the table and tried looking away. She was counting, quietly, under her breath, and trying to think happy thoughts. Hermione's magic almost never acted outside her control, but Ron could make the most unpredictable things happen.

"Luv, are you alright?" Hermione's Mum, Athene Granger, called from behind her. Hermione hadn't even heard the door.

"I'm fine," Hermione responded weakly.

Athene looked at her, and then looked down at the table. "I'm not sure if I should believe that. I haven't seen you angry enough to set fire to something since Uncle Panos sent you that doll for your tenth birthday."

"Well, I had _told_ him that I wanted a copy of the Odyssey in Latin, but he just said he would give me something I would never forget."

"He delivered on that, certainly. I know that I'll never forget the sight of a collectable talking doll melting into a plastic puddle."

They shared a laugh, but Hermione's dark mood still prevailed. Her mother looked at her closely. "It's something serious, isn't it," Athene said, but it didn't sound like a question.

"It's nothing," Hermione said, but her denial didn't fool either of them. She cast her glance on the picture on the table.

Her mother looked down at the picture, and understood instantly, "Is that Ron?"

Hermione nodded miserably. The photo was from Harry's seventeenth birthday party, which Hermione had not been able to attend. It looked like the Weasleys had felt it necessary to invite others, to make it a more important party. That might have been a good idea, but why did they have to invite Lavender?

The group of students had all clustered together in order to fit in the picture, but it looked like Lavender had taken it a bit too far. She had her arm around Ron's waist, and was leaning her head on Ron's shoulder, with a beatific expression on her face, like that kneazle that swallowed the canary. For his part, Ron looked uncomfortable at the attentions, but not as pained as Hermione would have liked.

"Hermione, we haven't really talked about Ron," Athene started out diplomatically.

"Mum!" Hermione interjected, a pained tone in her voice.

"No, I think you should listen. I know that you're really worried about what Ron thinks about you. Have you thought about just asking him?"

Hermione struggled with that thought. "You mean, just come out and say, 'Ron, do you love me?'"

"Well, you might be able to do it with a little more subtlety than that. Then again, it might not help, since he seems to be about as dense as a brick."

Hermione giggled, "You're not wrong."

"On a completely different note," Athene said, "Have you talked to him about what you're doing after Hogwarts yet?"

Hermione looked at one of the corners of the ceiling, and began to slowly compose an answer. "Well, I was planning on telling him in a letter, but I was hoping to get some of the more important topics out of the way first, and..."

Athene clicked her tongue against her teeth, a habit that Hermione hadn't inherited, thankfully. "Well, it seems to me that if you're holding back something like that, you both need to talk a little more."

"But he already knows what he wants to be. What if he decides he'd rather be with someone else who's training to be an Auror?"

"Is Lavender entering Auror training?"

"I don't think so," Hermione said, "but she might, if Ron was there."

"Well, either things will work out between you, or they won't, but you can't help them by not talking."

They were both silent. Hermione felt defensive about her relationship with Ron, but she couldn't deny that her mother had a point. Hedwig fluttered her wings, reminding them both that she was still there.

"I'm sorry, Hedgwig," Hermione said, reaching out a hand to rub the snow-owl's head. "I'll write something up right away."

"I'll work on dinner, and see if I can find a snack for Hedwig," Athene said, smiling.

Hermione grabbed some parchment from the stationary drawer of the nearby hutch, and pulled out a ball-point pen. She normally insisted on authenticity, but she couldn't see the point in stocking up on quills at home, especially with the difficulty in buying them in the volume that she would use.

She wrote Harry quickly, telling him not to worry, but suggesting that he might want to consider telling Dumbledore what he had seen, if he hadn't already. She encouraged him not to take any risks until they were all back at school, where they could face their problems together. She also, against her better judgement, asked him about his party, and about the people who had been there. She hoped that her questions weren't too transparent.

Hermione had more trouble with her letter to Ron. She was still fuming over the picture. She was sure that Lavender knew exactly what she was doing, and she suspected that Ron did, too. She didn't want her anger to show through the letter, however. She said very little, and just said that she wanted to talk to him about something that was important when they got back to Hogwarts.

As she finished the second letter, she eyed another piece of parchment. "Hedwig, would you be able to bring a letter to Dumbledore, while you're at it?"

Hedwig eyed her and cooed, in what Hermione hoped was a positive tone.

"Alright, then. Give me a few minutes." Hermione wrote a brief letter to the Headmaster, asking him if he thought there was any way to strengthen Harry's Occulumancy. She didn't tell him straight out that Harry had been having visions, but she figured he might very well guess.

Hermione gave all three letters to Hedwig, and then sent her on her way. Her father hadn't come back from work yet, but that was usual. He often worked late at night on the accounting end of the business, or seeing patients who paid extra for after-hours attention. She felt grateful for the few times that he had taken vacation or come home early to spend time with her, but she wished that he would do that more often. Even on vacations, he always seemed to take work with him -- that might seem odd for a dentist, but a small business owner always had more paperwork to do.

Albus replied the next day, sending both a personal letter and the annual Hogwarts letter. His letter was short, and Hermione could picture his eyes twinkling, as he worked on it. He said that effective Occulumancy wasn't merely a matter of power, but of being able to get Harry's emotions under control. If Harry was having trouble, he advised, then perhaps Harry needed to be less emotionally involved around bedtime. Hermione blushed as she realized what he might be alluding to, and decided that she didn't want to be the one to talk to Ron about it.

The Hogwarts letter was heavy. When she opened the envelope, a small badge fell out. Hermione had hoped to make Head Girl, she had somehow thought that it would validate her, that it would make a difference to those that looked down on her because of her non-Magical background. She didn't know if it would or not, but it looked like she would soon be able to find out.

The letter had the normal list of books and materials, as well as a list of the Head Girl's duties. It also had a small note from Professor McGonagall, informing Hermione that she had been selected for a Ministry Research Fellowship. Hermione hadn't even known that Professor McGonagall had recommended her for such a thing, but she felt grateful. While it would mean tons of extra work in her already busy schedule, at least she would be able to point to a solid accomplishment when she was done, something that was all hers.

The letter didn't say who the new Head Boy was. Hermione wasn't too worried -- as long as it wasn't Malfoy, she would be alright. Naturally, she had some hope that it would be Ron, but she wasn't sure how realistic that would be. After all, Ron had spent most of his energy last year on learning how to explode small sporting goods. She wasn't complaining, since his skills had saved her life, but it didn't seem to make him the ideal candidate for Head Boy.

Harry wrote back again the next day. He didn't mention her suggestion to talk to Albus. He went into more detail about his vision, though. He had seen Wormtail being forced to drink a potion of some kind. He had also heard Voldemort mention the Chamber of Secrets, which didn't make much sense, unless he hadn't heard that the Basilisk had been killed. The whole story wasn't public knowledge, she knew, but unless Voldemort thought that Harry had merely brought Ginny out and left the Basilisk alone, there wasn't any reason to reopen it. 

Voldemort thought there was, though, and that was enough to get Hermione interested. While Harry mostly worried about his vision, Hermione wondered about Voldemort. He was early this year in formulating his plot, and they were early in learning about it, but even with their forwarning, she hadn't the faintest idea what he was up to.

* * *

A/N - This book will largely be from Hermione's point of view, hence the slightly more high-falutin' vocabulary. Let me know if it's too much.

I appreciate the reviews for the last book, including the constructive criticism. I hope that I'm addressing some of your concerns - if I'm not doing that effectively, it doesn't mean that I didn't take your comments to heart. Thanks to those who have added me to your favorites or recommended me to others, as well.


	2. The Hogwarts Express

Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor

**Chapter Two - The Hogwarts Express**
    
    
    "That was hardly the worst mistake you'll ever
    make... That wasn't quite as comforting as it was
    meant to be."
    -- Giles (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the TV Series)
    

  


Hermione felt more at ease at the train station than most Witches did. She had travelled on trains before she had ever heard of Hogwarts. As long as she was in the station, among the mix of Muggles and Magicals, she felt in her own element. It was only after she got on the train that she would feel totally out of place again. She knew that it would be worse this year, as she was not looking forward to seeing Ron again.

Hermione almost wished that she had just told him how she felt in a letter, instead of waiting until they were face to face to talk things out. She knew Ron well enough to know that would be pointless, however. He'd either get angry, or be repentent, but either way, it wouldn't make him open up and tell her what was going on. Now, she was dreading seeing him and having the talk that she had threatened in her letter.

She said good-bye to her parents well before going down to the Platform, giving her mother a circumspect hug, and her father a peck on the cheek. She had been up late the night before packing, with her parents giving her a number of special gifts to take with her. She was most amused by the cricket bat that her father had provided her, "in case you run into any more monsters." Somehow, she didn't think that a cricket bat would do much good in her hands, whatever results might be found if it was in Ron's. A good book on charms or curses probably would have done more good in the end, but she wasn't going to send her father into Flourish and Botts looking for one.

As a result of her packing fury, some of her clothes were poking out of the sides of her trunk. She hadn't thought through the problems that could cause until a pair of Muggle women stopped, staring, and she realized that a portion of her school robes had ended up in plain view, her Gryffindor badge where anyone could see, with the word Hogwarts emblazoned above the colorful logo.

One of the women walked up to her timidly and asked, "Excuse me, could I ask where you got that badge? My boyfriend, Ben, would love something like that." She had Eurasian features and a very high pitched voice.

Hermione tried her best to be nonchalant. She really didn't want to make a scene. If the Ministry of Magic heard that a Muggle had seen a Hogwarts emblem, they might decide that it was some kind of breach of security on her part. Perhaps she was just being oversensitive to be worried about it, but she wouldn't put anything past the Ministry right now.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, trying to cover her nervousness, "but it was a gift. I don't know where the person got it."

"Oh, that's too bad," the woman said, frowning.

Her friend walked up to her, "Kei, if you really want something like that, we can probably just have it made back home."

Kei nodded, "I guess so. Thanks for your time," she said, looking at Hermione. Her friend grabbed her hand, and they walked off. Hermione quickly shoved the badge into her suitcase before making her way straight for the barrier that protected Platform 9 3/4, where she wouldn't have to worry about running into those women again.

She felt rattled by the meeting, and it bothered her. She had faced the Dark Lord, outwitted Umbridge, and otherwise proven herself in countless ways through the years. What was so bothersome about a pair of women in the train station?

She realized that the summer had been bad for her in more ways than she had thought. Sitting alone in her parents' home had drained her of her confidence. She had felt so utterly powerless and out of control. Now she thought she understood Harry a little better, since that was how he spent nearly every summer. Thinking about that made her furious -- what right did Voldemort have to do this to them both, to make them virtual prisoners in their own houses? 

"Close call there, Granger," came the last voice that she wanted to hear right now. She looked over her shoulder, and saw Draco Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. "You could get in a lot of trouble over that."

Hermione's lower lip trembled, but he seemed to mistake it for fear, rather than the anger that it was. "Nothing happened, Malfoy. Besides, what makes you think that anyone will care a whit for whatever it is that you have to say?"

"I think they will," he said confidently. He reached into a pocket, and pulled out a shiny badge, which simply said "Head Boy". "If they didn't care what I had to say, would they have given me this?"

"They probably gave it to you just to shut your mother up," she said spitefully.

"Possibly," he said, "but at least they know who she is. Get used to it, Granger, without someone powerful behind you, there's no way you'll ever see something like this."

She smiled, and pulled her own badge. "Really? Is that how it works? Then I suppose I should be happy that there's someone out there working on my behalf."

Draco looked dumbfounded. "Pansy Parkinson was supposed to have that badge. How did you get it? Resorted to attacking mail owls, Granger?"

"Parkinson? Head Girl? That's preposterous, Malfoy. Next you'll be telling me that Moaning Myrtle is a new Prefect."

"Laugh all you want, Granger. We'll get this straightened out, and you'll probably lose your Prefect's badge for impersonating the Head Girl. By the time I'm through with you, you'll be working in the kitchen with the House Elves."

"You know, Malfoy, I think I'd prefer that to seeing you walking around with that badge on." Hermione was furious with him, and she wasn't really aware of how the other students were reacting. They had gathered something of an audience already, from among the others that had arrived at the train early. The Weasleys, of course, were not there. She expected to see them arrive just before the train pulled away. That didn't mean that there was no one there that she recognized, though. Blaise Zabini of Slytherin was standing by, his arms crossed, and a frown on his face.

Blaise had started to grow his hair long, almost as long as Draco's, but it was pulled back in a ponytail instead of being allowed to fall freely. His face was lightly covered with stubble, which made him look more scraggly than intimidating. He saw Hermione meet his eyes. Hermione saw a strange gleam in Blaise's eye, something a little familiar, but she didn't recognize it. Blaise stepped forward, his hands out slightly between the two of them. "Head Boy, Head Girl, I think you're both scaring the new crop. You wouldn't want them all to get the wrong impression of Gryffindors and Slytherins, would you?" Blaise raised one of his eyebrows, and he seemed to be having trouble keeping his frown in place.

Hermione looked at him skeptically, "You don't think they'll figure it out eventually anyway?"

Blaise looked at her, and through gritted teeth, said, "ouryay aringscay the unchkinmays. ixnay." 

Draco looked confused. "Was that some sort of spell, Zabini? Are you trying to make things worse?"

Hermione figured it out, though she had to wonder where a Slytherin had learned Pig Latin. As far as she knew, it was a purely Muggle innovation. She stepped back, shrugging, "I guess we'll talk more about this in the Prefect's meeting, Malfoy. Don't be late."

She turned, and with her nose high in the air, marched towards the front of the train, pulling her trunk behind her. She boarded the Prefect's carriage, not giving Malfoy the chance to say anything more to her, and trying her best to ignore him.

The Ravenclaw prefects were already there, as usual. They were always the first ones into the meetings, unless one of the Slytherins was up to something. The Hufflepuffs would be last, other than Ron, since they always hated to leave home. Ron, assuming he remembered that he was a Prefect, would probably show up last. She hoped that he could separate himself from Lavender long enough to show up at all.

A few minutes later, Draco showed up. Hermione saw Crabbe and Goyle waiting out in the hallway, but she didn't say a word to him or his goons, and Draco kept his silence towards her as well. Each talked with some of the other Prefects about things like Quidditch, who would be discipline problems in the coming year, and who they expected to be the Dark Arts teacher this year. 

The train started to move, and Draco smirked. "No Weasley this year, eh, Granger?"

"I wouldn't know," she snapped back. "Where's Parkinson?"

Draco looked around, as if he hadn't noticed that he was missing a Slytherin Prefect. He looked almost genuinely concerned. "I'm not sure. Did you do something with her?"

Hermione scowled back at him, "No, I have enough problems keeping my eyes on Gryffindors without worrying about Slytherins. Why would you even think that I had anything to do with that?"

The door swinging open interrupted Draco's response. Ron walked in, and he grinned hugely when he saw Hermione. "Hermione! I was worried that you had missed the train!"

One of the Ravenclaw's snickered, but Hermione missed which one. "Where were you?" she demanded.

"You know," he shrugged, "helping our friends get settled in. I'm not too late, am I?"

"No," she said shortly, "we haven't started yet. We're still missing our faculty advisor."

On cue, the door opened, and Professor Snape walked in. He had a sour expression on his face, as usual. He didn't make any small talk, but launched directly into his speech. "Good morning. As you may be aware, this is a very important year for Hogwarts. Not only is it the last year for one of our celebrities," he made a bitter face, as if tasting a lemon, "but we have agreed to host an exchange program with several European schools, in order to increase European unity. This program has been put forward by our own part-time faculty member, Professor Delaceour. I know that you will all work to put your best foot forward on behalf of Hogwarts, especially those of you who have been trusted with special authority."

Snape continued, "This is also a time for increased vigilence. I expect all of you to be on the watch for any rule-breaking on the part of students, or anything that may breach Hogwarts security. If you find anything of the sort, I will expect you to report it to the Hogwarts staff immediately. I will expect this no matter who the offender may be." Snape's eyes burned into Hermione's face. She blushed, looking down, and thinking of all the things that she had ignored since becoming a Prefect. Ron seemed oblivious, however. That wasn't a huge surprise.

Snape finished up the meeting with a few closing notes, and then, looking at Ron with disapproval, indicated that they were free to return to the other cars, should they wish to visit with other students during the remainder of the trip. Ron was standing before Snape had finished his last sentence, and he quickly marched out the door, ignoring Crabbe and Goyle as he walked past.

Hermione quickly hurried behind him, not wanting to face Snape or Malfoy without him as backup. As soon as they had placed a car between them and Snape, Ron turned abruptly and looked at her. "I missed you so much this summer, Hermione. Are you alright?"

His sudden concern took her aback. She snapped back at him, "Am I alright? What do you care, anyway?"

It had surprised Hermione how much Ron had matured last year. She realized, though, that it had only been in one dimension. He had gotten much better at not jumping to conclusions about what was going on in people's heads, and not shouting quite as much when he didn't know what was going on. He would occassionally mutter something about a hammer, but was otherwise fairly quiet. However, he didn't seem to have gotten any better at actually considering other people's feelings. That probably explained a few things about the missing contents of his letters, assuming it wasn't just because he didn't share her feelings.

Ron's jaw opened, and then shut. There was a stubborn look on his face, which made him resemble a mule. "Never mind... I guess I shouldn't have bothered." He turned around and marched back towards the rear of the train.

Hermione immediately felt guilty for having said anything. She hurried after Ron, but had trouble keeping up with him. When Ron wanted to move quickly, he could. Entering a carriage, she saw him leaving on the other side, but the woman with the refreshments cart blocked her way. "Any sweets, luv?" she asked. 

Hermione shook her head, and tried impatiently to get around her. The woman stepped left when she stepped left, then right. Finally, Hermione just stepped back into the end of the car, where the corridor widened, and let the cart past.

Hermione jogged into the next car, and saw Ron at the end. He had stopped, and was talking to Blaise Zabini. Blaise saw Hermione, and he shook his head slightly before pushing past Ron. Ron started to say something, but then he saw Hermione, and shut his mouth, moving again towards the rear of the train. Hermione threw decorum to the wind and ran after him.

She caught up with him just in time for him to step into a compartment. She jumped in after him, and wasn't too shocked to see most of the usual crowd there, although she was disturbed to see that Lavender had apparently joined their usual crowd in the compartment. The seats were already taken - Harry, Ginny, Luna, and Lavender took up just about all of the room. Lavender moved over slightly, though, leaving just enough room for Ron to squeeze between her and Luna, who was absorbed in reading a copy of the Quiddler sideways.

Ron sat down. He didn't look up at Hermione, instead just staring at his shoes in sullen silence.

Ginny looked at him, and then up at Hermione. "What happened?" Ginny asked quietly, "Trouble with Malfoy?"

"Nothing new," Hermione said.

"It's nothing," Ron said, "I just found out I was living in a nightmare is all."

"What's wrong?" Harry said, abruptly becoming interested.

"Just drop it," Ron said, flatly. His face was dark, betraying only his pain. "It's nothing that concerns anyone else."

"So, no news from the Prefect's chamber?" Lavender asked brightly. Hermione wasn't sure if she was forcing her brightness to try to change the subject, or if she was really as clueless as she came across.

"I wouldn't say that," Hermione said. "There were a few tidbits. For one thing, there's going to be a student exchange."

"A student exchange?" Harry asked. "With who?"

"With Beaubatons and Durmstrang," Ron said. "Did you notice how irked Snape was with the idea?"

"He was probably upset it wasn't his idea," Hermione said.

"Maybe," Ron said doubtfully, "but I think it might have been something more."

"What do you mean?" Lavender asked, beating Hermione to the question.

"Well," Ron thought aloud, "he didn't seem upset at Fleur for the idea, he just seemed sour about it. I wonder if he suspects something's going to happen."

"What could happen because of an exchange?" Lavender asked.

Hermione looked at her, amazed at the question. "Well, for starters, who knows who the students will be? They could be Death Eaters in training, or security problems in their own rights."

"Oh, of course," Lavender replied, looking chastened. Hermione felt a little like she had just kicked a puppy.

"So, did you find out who the new Head Girl is?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione with an open question on his face.

Hermione, still standing just inside the doorway, pulled her badge out of her pocket. She felt embarassed at putting herself on display.

"I knew it," Harry said. He stood up and hugged her briefly, before sitting back down next to Ginny.

"It had to be you," Ron said, looking up at her, his pride overriding his anger. "I just knew it would be."

"I wasn't sure at all," Hermione said. "Malfoy said that Parkinson was supposed to have gotten it, as if he knew ahead of time who it would be. I almost thought for a minute that me getting the badge was some kind of mistake. I mean, given who they chose for Head Boy, anything could have happened."

Everyone froze, except Luna, who Hermione could hear softly humming in the sudden silence. Something was horribly wrong, she could sense that, but she couldn't see what it was.

After a moment, Ron said, in a sort of strangled voice, "So, you know about that, do you?"

"Of course I do," Hermione said. "Malfoy couldn't keep his mouth shut about it. Personally, I thought it was some sort of joke. It was one thing making such a stupid git a Prefect, but Head Boy?"

Ron stood up, his face ashen. Something fell from his side, hitting the ground with a thud, and he pushed his way past Hermione, and out into the corridor. Static electricity was filling the air around her, she could feel her already wild hair starting to stand up. Ron was channelling an immense amount of wandless magic. Why was he suddenly so bothered by this? And why did everyone else look so angry at her?

Her gaze dropped to the ground, and she saw what Ron had dropped. "Oh, dear," she said softly, suddenly realizing that she had dug herself a hole worthy of a Weasley.

Ron had dropped a Hogwarts Head Boy badge on the ground. He thought that she was talking about _him_.

  
  


Coming soon... Chapter Three - Open Mouth, Accio Foot


	3. Open Mouth, Accio Foot

**Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor**

  
  


**Chapter Three - Open Mouth, Accio Foot**

  

    
    
    Experience is that marvelous thing that enables
    you to recognize a mistake when you make it again.
    -- F. P. Jones
    

After Ron left, the silence remained. The facial expressions ranged from shock to hatred, except for Luna, who was still humming softly to herself. Hermione did the only thing she could think of. She started to sob.

She choked out an explanation between sobs, and the expressions changed now to horror and pity.

"You believed that Malfoy was Head Boy?" Ginny summarized.

"Well, he had a badge, and he seemed so certain," she choked out. "I need to go tell Ron. He must think I'm horrible." She turned to go, but Harry stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"I don't think you should go near him right now. He might say something he'd regret later. Give him a chance to cool down, first."

"I'll go," Lavender said. Harry nodded, and Hermione found herself moving out of the way to let Lavender go after him. She felt angry that everyone seemed to agree that it was better for Lavender to go after him than for her to go. As soon as Lavender had left the room, Hermione moved back by the door, and looked down the hallway. She hoped that Ron could forgive her, although she knew that her earlier attack on him probably hadn't helped any. She saw Lavender move out of view, and heard Ron's voice a few moments later -- she couldn't make out what he was saying, and she wasn't upset about that. Given the tone, she was quite sure she wouldn't have liked whatever he was saying. She strained her ears anyway, though, as his shouts dropped in volume and then went silent. While she was waiting, straining to listen, the food cart Witch went past her, going towards the end with Ron and Lavender. She looked oddly at Hermione, but didn't stop to chat.

As soon as she had gone around the corner at the end of the hall, there was the sound of something smashing from down the hall. It sounded like a dozen dishes hit the ground, and Hermione could hear something bounce three times, and then roll. A few moments later, Lavender, Ron, and someone else came around the corner at the end of the corridor. She heard the Witch that ran the food cart yelling after them, and winced -- if she used language like that, she'd probably lose her Head Girl's badge and wind up cleaning caldron's for a month. It quickly became clear, though, why she was so worked up.

Hermione had to stifle a laugh. Ron was carrying a girl in Slytherin robes, someone she didn't recognize, who seemed dazed. They were both covered from head to toe in what appeared to be orange marmalade. Several chocolate frogs were stuck inside the marmalade, struggling to be free. Lavender was keeping her distance from Ron, holding her nose. Ron had to turn sidewise to walk down the narrow hallway, gingerly carrying the young woman.

"What happened?" Hermione asked as he approached the room.

"She ran into the food cart," Ron said. He wasn't quite meeting Hermione's eyes, but at least he didn't seem to be raving mad right now. "I think she sprained her ankle."

"Don't know where the blasted thing came from," the Slytherin girl said cheerily. Hermione could have sworn that she had heard her voice before, but she was entirely sure that she had never seen her face. Her otherwise blonde hair had a lock of sharp purple hair in it. Her teeth were the most perfect that Hermione had seen at Hogwarts, other than her own, of course.

Ron carried the girl sideways towards their compartment. "Would you like to come in and sit down for a while? I think it was my fault that you got run into."

"No, that's alright," the girl said. She had a twinkle in her eye, and Hermione was starting to feel worried. She told herself that it had nothing to do with the fact that a strange Slytherin student was in Ron's arms, and that it was just because there was something that felt wrong about the girl.

Ron was oblivious to Hermione's concerns. He was still looking down at the girl. "So, do you want me to put you down somewhere?"

The Slytherin suddenly seemed to realize how many eyes were on her -- not just Hermione's, but now all of those from inside the chamber. Most of them were being less successful than Hermione at controlling their laughter. Only Luna was more imperturbable. But then, Luna was busily trying to fold the last page of the Quiddler to reveal the secret message. The girl met Harry's eyes, and blushed. "That's alright. I need to find Professor Snape, anyway. You can put me down, now."

Ron put her down, and she whimpered slightly as she put her weight on her foot, but quickly schooled her face. "Thanks," she said, "I suppose I should go get cleaned up." She limped towards the front of the train. Ron followed her progress with his eyes until she turned the corner up ahead.

"So, do you want me to clean that up, or are you saving it for later," Hermione asked, looking at Ron's outfit.

He looked down, grimacing, "I just hope she doesn't try to charge me for the marmalade. It smells awful."

"I thought you liked marmalade," Lavender broke in.

"I do," Ron replied, "but not as clothing."

There was something about the easy way that Lavender and Ron talked together that chilled Hermione. They seemed to be so close to each other. Hermione wondered if she had already lost him entirely. Lavender waved her wand at Ron, muttering a series of cleaning charms, and the marmalade and frogs flew off into a puddle on the floor. "I don't suppose you can take it from here," Lavender said, "I'm not really sure how to make it go away."

Hermione nodded. She waved her wand, and removed the evidence. As she was congratulating herself, she heard the door at the end of the train slam, and the Food cart Witch's muttering. "Great," Ron said, "this is the first time I haven't wanted to see her."

"Well, let's not, then," Hermione said, taking his arm, and guiding him back into the chamber. Lavender followed closely behind. Too closely, Hermione thought, but she berated herself for thinking about Lavender at all. What was important right now was Ron.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, wishing that she could have been alone for this. "I had no idea that you thought you were Head Boy."

"What do you mean, that I thought I was Head Boy?" Ron demanded. "I am. I got the badge with my Hogwarts letter."

"Don't snap at me!" Hermione snapped back at him. "I'm sure you are Head Boy. I mean, who on earth would have voted for Malfoy?"

"Terry Boots would have," Luna said.

Everyone looked at her. She continued, "I heard them talking on the Express on the way back last year. He was upset at Weasley about something. I wonder what it could be?"

Ron shrugged, looking embarrassed. Hermione remembered Ron's defense of Gryffindor's first years. Terry probably hadn't forgiven him for that yet. "Well, you probably didn't get his vote," she conceded, "but no one else would have voted for Malfoy, would they?"

"He could have bought them off," Ginny said reluctantly. "I'm sure it's cheaper to be Head Boy at Hogwarts than most of the positions his family has bought."

"What, you don't think I got it either?" Ron said, looking at her angrily. "Great lot of friends you all are."

"I think you earned it," Luna said, in her dreamy voice, "even if no one else does. But if no one else does, then you probably didn't." She was still staring at the back of the Quiddler.

"I'm sure you did, Ron," Hermione said. "There's no way that Dumbledore would be bought by Malfoy, and he wouldn't let the badge be bought, either. You'll always be our Head Boy, whatever Malfoy thinks." She realized just how sappy that sounded, and blushed, grateful that the twins weren't here.

Ron didn't seem to mind. He smiled at her, and for a minute, she felt like she was back where she had been last year, with everything right between them. Then he looked away again, out the window. She wondered if it had just been an illusion, or if it was reality, and their fighting an illusion to cover it up.

"I don't think we'll know for sure until we get to Hogwarts," Ron said. "Snape's the only Professor on the train, and I sure don't want to ask him."

"I think Fleur's here, too," Luna said. "I saw her sitting in the next carriage over."

"She's coming back?" Ron asked. "I thought she was going to stay in London with Gringott's."

"I'm not sure," Luna replied, "I only know what I saw."

"I don't think she would do anything about it, anyway," Harry said. "Even if she did, Snape would probably just get into a fit about it."

"There's probably no need to worry," Ginny chimed in. "There are probably enough other things to be concerned about, more than who's wearing the Head Boy badge. Look at it this way -- if it isn't you, you won't have to worry about everyone calling you Percy."

"I guess," Ron shrugged.

"Hullo," Luna remarked, looking up from her paper. "Didn't you keep in touch with Professor Lupin after he left Hogwarts?"

"A little," Hermione confirmed. Luna knew more of what went on than many of Hogwarts' students, but they hadn't told her quite everything.

"He's mentioned in an article, here," she said, pointing to a small article in the middle of the Quiddler.

"You're kidding," Ron said, "did they find out that he's really Stubby Boardman?"

"No," Luna said disdainfully. "He was attacked, probably by a group of Dark House elves, while he was abroad."

"Not the Dark House Elves again," Hermione muttered under her breath, but Luna didn't acknowledge her.

"Is he alright?" Harry asked, suddenly becoming interested.

"The article doesn't really say," Luna replied, "but it appears that he's been taken to Beaubatons to recover. I do hope that they know about his problem with the moon."

"I'm sure they do," Harry said, "after all, everyone else does. But I wonder what he was doing in France."

"The article doesn't actually say that he was in France," Luna pointed out, "just that he was abroad. It's surprising that they took him to the school, though, and not to one of the medical institutions."

"Not too surprising, if Dumbledore had any say in it," Ron responded. "He's probably got more trust in Madame Maxime than in some random Healer somewhere in Europe."

"Why would Dumbledore care about that?" Luna asked, looking suddenly very interested. Hermione felt uncomfortable. She supposed that they ought to have let Luna know how much of a role Lupin had played as of late, but she wasn't sure that was her story to tell. She only knew what was in the letters, after all, and they were mostly devoid of any real information.

"So," Ginny said, obviously straining for a way to change the topic, "did you see Jalaja getting on the train?"

"Who's Jalaja?" Hermione asked.

"One of the Hufflepuffs, in my year," Ginny answered. "She's almost never in the library, so you probably haven't met her."

Hermione ignored the jab and asked, "What happened to her getting on the train?"

"Nothing happened to her," Ginny replied, "but she wasn't alone. Hunter Sands was getting on with her."

"Really?" Luna asked, "I thought he broke up with her over the summer."

Hermione wasn't sure where they were going with this, but it was better than discussing Lupin's missions. She prodded them both, "And Hunter Sands would be..."

"A sixth year Ravenclaw," Luna said, "You've probably seen him. Long dirty blonde hair, half Muggle. Fairly smart."

That covered more than a few Ravenclaws, she thought. Hermione felt a little guilty at how many students she hadn't met or couldn't place by name, but the students in the years below her had never been as interesting as those the same age, except for Ginny. "So, is there something special about them?" she asked, still feeling a little lost.

Luna and Ginny both giggled. "They were inseparable last year. Embarrassing really. I hear that Snape had to give them both a month of detention near the end of the year, but I never heard what it was for. I had heard that Hunter was going to leave her, though. It seems like it's not true." 

Hermione was tempted to ask again why she should care, but she remembered that Ginny had brought them up only to change the subject. She decided that she was better off just letting Ginny and Luna gossip, and staying out of the discussion.

Harry and Ron seemed utterly bored by their discussion. Harry yawned, and Ron quickly followed up with one of his own. Within a few moments, they were asleep. Hermione pulled a small book out of her pocket, a compact guide on Magical Creatures that she had been saving for the trip. She fought her own desire to sleep, and forced herself to stay awake.

She finished her book about an hour outside of Hogwarts. She saw that Ginny and Luna had traded reading material; Luna was reading Molly Weasley's latest Weekly Witch News, and Ginny was smothering laughter as she paged through the Quiddler. Lavender had said so little that Hermione had forgotten she was there, sitting on the floor, reading her own book. The boys were still asleep, however.

"Harry," Hermione said, reaching out to shake his arm, "it's time to wake up and change." Harry murmured something, and whimpered slightly. His curse scar looked red, brighter than normal, and he reached his arms up to shield his face.

"He's dreaming," Ginny said, looking at him closely. "You don't think it's one of his visions, do you?" She looked worried.

Harry started to talk, barely audibly. "Wormtail... potion." He didn't make any sense, it was just scattered words. "Chamber... washroom."

"Harry, wake up!" Ginny said, starting to look very scared. Hermione wondered if it was just because it sounded like a vision, or if it was because his words were getting close to some very personal memories.

Ron moved slightly, muttering under his breath. "What is it?"

"Voldemort," Harry whispered, still asleep. Ginny started to shake him frantically.

"Harry, wake up! You have to wake up!" Ginny was almost shouting at him.

Ron sat straight up, suddenly on alert. "What's wrong?"

"Harry's having a dream," Lavender said, looking at Ron. "I'm not sure why everyone's so scared, though."

Hermione was glad that Lavender didn't know. She hung to that small fact, as proof that Ron hadn't let her into the group. Hermione felt ashamed, but she didn't care, she was just happy that Lavender wasn't one of them. She hadn't felt that way when Harry insisted on letting Ginny in, but that was different. Ginny was Harry's choice. Lavender would have been Ron's choice, and she couldn't have endured that.

Ron stood up over Harry, took a deep breath, and slapped him across the face. He shouted, his voice far too loud for a place this small, "Wake up!"

Harry's eyes slammed open. "Where am I?" he asked, looking around. "What's happening?"

"You were having a dream, and you wouldn't wake up," Ginny said. "You said _his_ name."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, although he didn't sound the least repentent. "Did I say anything else?"

"You said something about a Chamber," Lavender said, "and a washroom. That's when Ginny got all upset."

Ron and Harry looked at each other. Harry looked back, "It was probably nothing. So, Ron, did you have a good sleep?"

Luna looked at Harry, "I think it was something. You said 'Wormtail', too."

Ron started to look distressed. He was obviously trying to cut off this line of questioning, at least while the whole crowd was in the room. "I had a dream," he announced, "I was standing on this pyramid, wearing these strange robes."

"What?" Lavender seemed very confused, which was good. Hermione managed to steer the conversation over to Divination and Dream interpretation, and then reminded everyone to change for Hogwarts. The men waited outside while the women changed, and the conversation was light as they pulled into the station.

~.~.~

Ron hesitated on the step as he got out of the train. Hermione almost ran into him. She asked, not without a hint of impatience, "What are you stopping for?"

"I'm not sure," he murmured, "but something doesn't seem quite right." There were a stream of students behind Hermione, but most of them were her friends, and they seemed content to wait for a few moments. She could see others streaming off the carriage next to them, apparently without any alarm.

After a moment, Ron shook his head. "It must have been nothing," he said, "I'm probably just a little nervous." He started to take a step forward, then suddenly jumped back, knocking Hermione into Harry and both of them into a wall. He shouted, "Down!"

Hogwarts students had become a skittish bunch in recent years. At Ron's shout, they scattered. Hermione saw two of them pull Fleur Delaceour out of the way, just before something large and metallic fell to the ground in front of the door to the train. It shattered to pieces as it hit, throwing shrapnel around. Hermione wasn't sure, but it looked like it had been a handcart, one of those small, manually operated railroad cars that were featured prominently in so many American cartoons. Now it was just a pile of rubble, which they would have to climb over to leave the car.

"Bloody 'ell!" Ron swore under his breath. "If we'd moved forward, it would have landed right on top of us." Hermione had to strain to hear him, with the echoing vibrations of the crash still sounding in her head.

"Not to mention them," Hermione agreed, pointing to the shaken students who had been streaming off the next carriage over, and to Fleur, who was standing with them. The stairs from both carriages were right next to each other, and the handcart was centered between them. "You saved us again, Ron."

They gingerly climbed over the wreckage, and spread out, keeping a sharp eye around them. "You-Know-Who must be getting desperate," Ginny said, "Do you think he knows about the Topic that Must Not Be Discussed?" The group had agreed that even mentioning the Prophecy by name was asking for trouble, and Ginny's suggested nickname for it had ended up with widespread approval among the four. Or so Hermione had been told; it was another one of the discussions over the summer that she had missed.

"I don't think so," Ron said confidently. "This doesn't seem like his style. I can't see him trying to squish Harry with a Muggle thingamawidget."

"So, who do you think did it?" Hermione asked. She followed his gaze, and saw that he was staring at Draco Malfoy, who was coming around from the other side of the train, a satisfied grin on his face.

"How about we ask our other Head Boy," Ron said, looking angry.

"Stand aside, everyone," Draco said loudly, "Head Boy coming through. Everyone just be calm."

He walked up to Ron, "What about it, Weasley? Anyone hurt?"

"No, not that I know of. You don't have to be so concerned, though, the Head Boy's right here." Ron pulled his badge out.

Draco looked at Hermione, then at Ron. He looked stunned. "Weasley, if this is one of your brother's jokes, I'm not laughing. Mother spoke to the school governors, and they assured her that I was Head Boy this year."

"Well, I hate to disappoint your Mum," Ron said, "but if there's a joke involved, it's in the idea that you would get the badge." Both of the would-be Head Boys had obviously forgotten about the handcart entirely. Draco's hand was in his wand pocket; Ron's was itching towards his own. The other students were also getting over the panic from the attack, and they now looked like they were ready for the day's entertainment.

"Weasley, the closest you were ever meant to get to that badge was shining it for your older brother, and even that's more than your family deserves." Malfoy was spitting mad, with an almost fanatical look on his face. His wand cleared his pocket. Ron drew his even more quickly, pointing it straight at Malfoy.

"First years! Over here!" Hagrid's voice resounded, and some of the students started to skitter away. Fleur stood by Hagrid's side, looking proud of herself.

The half-giant's voice resounded, "What's all this, then?"

Draco didn't look up at him.

"Yer not fighting, are you Malfoy? First day back and already getting into trouble?"

"Don't look at me, Hagrid," Draco snarled, "I'm not the one impersonating a Hogwarts Head Boy."

"Impersonating, my arse," Ron snapped back. "I got the badge fair and square."

"That's enough o' that," Hagrid replied, not shouting, but speaking loudly nonetheless. "We'll leave the question of who's on top to Dumbledore. Fer now, act your age, and get on the carriages!" He turned, and started herding the first-years to the boats. The mood of the crowd was disappointed, having missed out on what very well could have been one of Hogwarts' most memorable duels, but they slouched towards the carriages, a concerted grumbling coming up from the crowds.

"C'mon, Ron, let's get to dinner," Ginny said.

"Are you serious? Do you think I can eat not knowing whether or not that git is Head Boy?"

Hermione had other questions on her mind, though, which seemed far more important to her. Chief among them was the question of who was behind the attack on the students. It was obviously a serious attack, but the attacker hadn't followed through. There was no sign of any curses being thrown at students, or any other large objects falling on people, although she felt the urge to keep looking up.

And, there was another question. Professor Delaceour had gotten Hagrid, but she wasn't the only Professor that had been on the train. She looked around, and realized she hadn't even seen him disembark. Where was Snape?

  


* * *

A/N - I'm leaving out the Sorting Hat song in the next chapter - anyone who thinks it's really important is free to submit their ideas. When I try to write poetry, it comes out as doggerel - if I try to write Sorting-Hat-style doggerel, I'm afraid I'll wind up with limericks, and no one wants that.

Thanks to several people from one of my role-playing groups for helping with the character design for Blaise and Professor Valek, whom you'll encounter shortly. You know who you are. If you want to be identified as such, speak up in the reviews.

No, the Slytherin isn't Draco's older sister, long lost cousin, or otherwise a missing Malfoy. Normally, I'd let you figure that out for yourselves, but in this case, I'll make an exception.

Pig Latin, used in the previous chapter, is just used by taking the first sound off the front of a word, usually the first letter, and putting it at the end, with the sound "ay" added. For example, "Nix" is "Ixnay." Personally, I can't understand it either, unless it's printed in front of me. Blaise's speech was: "You're scaring the munchkins. Nix." 


	4. Arrivals

Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor

**Chapter Four - Arrivals**
    
    
    An honor is not diminished for being shared.
    -- Lois McMaster Bujold, "Shards of Honor", 1986
    

"So," Ron murmered to Hermione quietly, "who do you think we'll have for our Dark Arts teacher this year?" They weren't paying much attention to the Sorting that was currently underway.

"I'm not sure," Hermione murmered back. "There's not enough of a pattern yet to tell if they'll be a Death Eater or a friend of Harry's parents. It depends on how we categorize Kwikspell."

Ron rolled his eyes, "Do you have to approach everything as if it were an exam question?"

Hermione didn't answer. She was too busy looking at the person who had seated herself at the head table. The new arrival was certain to be the Dark Arts teacher, she thought, as she was the only unknown at the table. She didn't look much like a Hogwarts Professor, however.

The new Professor was about Hermione's height, midway between five and six feet tall. Her athletic build would have been hidden by robes, had she been wearing them, but the outfit she wore hid very little. Hermione would have thought it was a purely Muggle outfit, since it was cut like a simple tee-shirt and jeans, but there was a snow-tiger on the front of the shirt that paced restively, occasionally walking around to the back of the shirt. A purple leather duster jacket and matching boots completed her ensemble.

Her hair was a chestnut-brown, pulled back into a ponytail behind her, aside from a few random wisps stuck out from her bangs and curved around to the bottom of her face. Hermione saw the glint of silver around her neck, but couldn't make out any details.

Hermione wasn't alone in staring at the new arrival. Many of the students were wondering about her, too. Even if it weren't for the reputation Hogwarts professors were gaining for the instability of its Dark Arts Professors, someone like her would gather stares from just about anyone.

The Sorting Hat sang its piece, and then it was time to welcome the new students. The Sorting seemed fairly even, but Gryffindor got a few less than anyone else, which surprised Hermione. She didn't know if it was easier to consider yourself brave during peacetime, or if she was overthinking things. There was no guarantee the houses would have even numbers of students, after all.

Hermione noticed Professor Ding was back from last year, although she was standing along the side of the room, rather than being seated at the head table. She was standing next to Fleur Delaceour, and both of them were glaring at the new Dark Arts Professor as if she were their worst enemy. Hermione filed that away as something to ask about later -- she assumed Ding was on the side of right, which might mean the new Professor was not.

The Sorting done, Professor Dumbledore walked slowly up to the podium. He looked out at his students, and Hermione saw him lock eyes with Harry for a moment, before sweeping his gaze back across the rest of the students. "I am sure we are all eager to begin eating, but before we do so, I have a few announcements."

"First, the Forest outside the castle is known as the Forbidden Forest. Students are expressly forbidden from being inside the Forest without Hogwarts Faculty accompanying them. The Forest is home to a number of unfriendly creatures, not all of whom may be beaten with a piece of wood and good intentions."

"Second, Mister Filch has expanded his list of forbidden items to an all-time high. As nearly two-thirds of the list is composed of new products from Weasley Wizard Wheezes, I would strongly suggest familiarizing yourself with their catalog, so you may understand what sorts of items are forbidden. If you do not have a catalog, I have an extra in my office." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and Hermione guessed he had the catalog for more than determining which items were forbidden.

"Third, I would like to announce that we have made several classrooms and corridors off-limits, due to ongoing renovations of the Castle. These locations have been marked with a line of magical force, like so." He waved his hand, and a line of green dust appeared in the air. "Students are requested to please avoid these areas for their own safety, as powerful magics may be unleashed in these areas."

"Fourth, allow me to present our newest faculty member. Professor Kirin Valek, our Professor for Defense against the Dark Arts. I believe it is noteworthy that Professor Valek is Hogwarts five-hundredth faculty member in this subject." At Dumbledore's introduction, the woman smiled at everyone, and lifted her hand, inadvertently knocking over her water goblet directly into Snape's lap. As he jumped, the goblet hit the ground, shattering. Dumbledore didn't seem to notice, though, pausing only long enough to allow the muted applause to settle down. Hermione thought this new Professor was probably the only Dark Arts teacher to get a standing ovation from Professor Snape.

"Finally, before we eat, I would like to say two words. Tuck In." The Headmaster proceded, and the students all followed suit except for Ron. He was fingering his Head Boy badge, and staring at Dumbledore, who seemed completely oblivious. Hermione looked over at the Slytherin table, and saw Malfoy was acting normal, apparently unbothered by the question of who the new Head Boy really was. Hermione looked around the room. She wondered if anyone else had received unexpected badges. She realized that not only had Snape not identified the Head Boy by name, but he hadn't said who the new Head Girl was, either. Now she didn't feel like eating, either.

As her gaze travelled around the room, it finally hit Hermione that this was really their last year here. She had met almost everyone in the room, although she didn't really know many of them as friends, and soon she would end up leaving almost all of them behind. She hoped it wouldn't be everyone, though. She thought there were at least a few people who would still write to her after she left, and hopefully they would visit as well. She felt guilty; she still hadn't talked about her post-Hogwarts plans with Ron and Harry.

She saw some of the others in her year also seemed more somber than usual. Dean Thomas was staring at his hands, ignoring Seamus' attempts to enjoin him in conversation. One of the seventh year Hufflepuffs, a boy she hadn't talked to before, had buried his head in his hands. One of the Hufflepuffs next to him had his arm over his shoulders, comforting him. She wondered if any of the others were also struck by their impending graduation, or if they had more serious problems on their mind.

She noticed something else in looking around the room. Someone was missing, but Hermione didn't know her name. The Slytherin girl from the train, who probably still smelled of marmalade, wasn't at the Slytherin table. Hermione couldn't imagine that she hadn't been cleaned up on the train, but there weren't too many other good reasons to miss the Sorting and Arrival Feast. Even Ron and Harry hadn't managed to miss it every year, although it seemed like they had been trying.

Ginny leaned over and whispered to Hermione, "Look at the Hufflepuff table, near the end." She jerked her head in that direction.

Hermione followed Ginny's direction, but didn't see anything too noteworthy. "What am I looking for?"

"Jalaja. The one we were talking about on the train. She's the one looking at the Ravenclaw table with the forlorn eyes."

Hermione looked over. Jalaja seemed to be a fairly ordinary student. Her hair was beautiful, black, and straight, which Hermione thought grossly unfair. Her eyes, though, were puffy, and she was indeed staring at one of the Ravenclaws, who seemed to be ignoring her.

Hermione looked at the object of Jalaja's stare, and wasn't too impressed with him, either. She couldn't see many details of the boy, who was presumably Hunter, but he seemed to be almost as short as Harry, with sandy hair and a ruddy complexion. She recognized him as someone she had seen around school, but not as anyone she had ever talked with.

"I do hate to interrupt," a pinched voice came from over her shoulder, "but I need to speak with you." Hermione turned, finding Professor McGonagall standing there looking cross. "I believe there has been some mistake with regards to the badges."

"I knew it!" Hermione said. "See, Ron, there was nothing to worry about."

Ron put his fork down. She noticed it still had his first bite of food on it. The mess really had disturbed him.

"Yes, Miss Granger, you are indeed Head Girl. We heard from Mister Parkinson when his daughter received the badge erroneously, and we were quick to let him know the truth. I'm sure you and your friends will all be glad to know you are, indeed, Hogwarts Head Girl." Professor McGonagall turned to leave, but Ron stopped her.

"Professor? You mentioned Hermione, but what about me?"

Professor McGonagall turned back and echoed, "What about you?"

"Yes, Professor. I have to know, is Malfoy really Head Boy?"

Professor McGonagall looked stricken, "Malfoy? Head Boy? That couldn't be, could it?"

Hermione was astounded to hear her say something quite so impolitic about a Hogwarts student, even one from another house. Ron caught something else in her tone, though. "You mean, you don't know?"

"No, I don't," McGonagall confirmed, "Headmaster Dumbledore insisted on sending out the letters to the Head Boy himself. He wouldn't tell me why, but he said it was something he couldn't ask anyone else to do." She shook her head. "That could be why. Malfoy?" McGonagall shook her head again, and walked away.

"So, he really is Head Boy," Ron said. His face was ashen. "I suppose I should apologize."

"Apologize? To Malfoy?" Harry seemed dumbstruck. "Ron, there's no way you're going to apologize to the Bouncing Ferret."

"If Dumbledore says he's Head Boy, then it must be so," Ron said, his voice full of fatalism. "There's no point in prolonging this."

"You've got to fight it, Ron," Harry replied. "Dumbledore can't have wanted to make Malfoy Head Boy."

"McGonagall didn't say he had," Hermione pointed out, "just that Dumbledore didn't involve her. He might have wanted to write the letter himself because you were important to him, or because he didn't want to have it seen with the rest of the mail."

"She had to have known, though," Ron said, "I didn't get a regular letter from her, just the one signed by Dumbledore."

"This is crazy," Ginny said, "I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave. Why don't you go and ask Dumbledore who the Head Boy is."

Ron blustered, "I can't just go up there and ask him."

"Why not?" Ginny asked, looking at Ron intently. "If he did give it to Malfoy, I'm sure he had a good reason. If he didn't, then you'll know, and you can gloat."

"Ron," Hermione said softly, "I think she's right. You should ask Dumbledore."

"It's too late," Ron said, looking at the head table. Dumbledore was already leaving the table. He said a few words to Snape and Fleur, and then walked towards one of the back hallways.

"It's not too late," Ginny said impatiently. "Just go to his office and ask him."

"He's busy," Ron said, uneasy. "I'll talk to him later in the week."

"Ron, I can tell this is eating you up," Hermione said softly, "I'll go with you if you want, but you can't let it go."

"I don't think I want to know, Hermione," Ron said back. "If it's Malfoy, I just don't want to know."

Across the room, Malfoy stood, his chin in the air. "Prefects, attend to your students. First year Slytherins, over here."

"You're going," Ginny said. "Even if it is Malfoy, you deserve an explanation."

Hermione knew Ginny was right. If Ron didn't go now, he wouldn't be able to rest until he had an explanation, and he probably wouldn't trust Dumbledore until he found out what had really happened. She pulled his arm. "Come on, let's go."

"What about dinner?" Ron protested, looking down at his plate, which was still untouched.

"You can go by the kitchens later," she said, "come on."

Malfoy was walking towards them, she noticed, but she ignored him, pulling Ron to his feet.

"Where do you think you're going?" Malfoy asked from behind them.

"To bring this travesty to an end," Hermione replied angrily, "We're going to talk to Dumbledore about this."

"Wait!" Malfoy commanded, "What about your first years?"

"Why do you care, Malfoy?" Hermione sneered at him.

"It's my job, Granger," he said, flashing his badge back at her.

"No, it's not," she replied. "The other Prefects will take care of our first years, we're going to get this straightened out."

"Fine by me," Malfoy said, "You know where to find me, Weasley, if you want to give me your extra badge." He turned, and returned to his table to get his own first years in order. Ron and Hermione walked off, past the Head Table, towards the stairs.

Once they were in the corridor, Hermione turned to Ron. "You aren't acting like yourself, Ron. What's wrong?"

"It's complicated, Hermione."

"Talk to me," she commanded. "Why did you suddenly stop standing up to Malfoy? Why aren't you willing to go to Dumbledore?"

Ron looked down at his shoes. "I told you about the Mirror of Erised, in my first year, right?"

"Yes, you did, and so did Harry. You saw yourself as Head Boy then, didn't you?"

"I did, then. That was a long time ago, Hermione. I think I've been almost killed or expelled at least a dozen times since then, and you know what, I don't think I care anymore."

"What?" Hermione asked, looking at him in amazement.

"Don't make a big deal about it," he said, looking embarassed. "It's only that there are things that are more important to me. My friends, my family, you, those are all worth more than a thousand Head Boy badges."

"That's wonderful, Ron, but I don't understand why you won't stand up to Malfoy. Or why you stood up to him outside, but won't here."

"I had time to think about it, Hermione. Do you really think there's any way I would make Head Boy? What kind of world would let that happen? Malfoy got it, fair and square, but I don't want to hear it from Dumbledore. I don't want to let it be important to me, when I know I'm going to lose out."

"So, you don't want to talk to him?" Hermione asked.

"Not if he's going to say it's not me," Ron replied.

She took his hand, and held it, looking up at his face, trying to capture his eyes. He met her gaze, and leaned in, but they both jumped back at the sound of footsteps from down the hall.

She turned, and saw that Professor Ding was following Professor Valek, talking to her. Valek seemed to be trying to ignore Ding, walking as fast as her legs would carry her. "Get back here! I know it's you. You can't abandon the Way like this, I won't let you."

"I don't need your Way," Valek said over her shoulder. She hopped up a stairway that was in the middle of moving, and walked quickly towards one of the side passages.

Ding stopped, looking at Hermione and Ron, "Welcome back. Aren't you supposed to be escorting the first year students?"

"We had to ask Dumbledore about something, first," Ron replied. "We were on our way up to his office."

"I'm not sure now is such a good time," Professor Ding said hesitently. "He seems to be in a bad mood. I barely saw his eyes twinkle during dinner at all."

"It's important," Hermione said, "but thanks for the warning. We'll try not to overstay our welcome. Do you know Professor Valek?"

"I know of her," Professor Ding said, setting her jaw. "Be careful. She's not someone you should trust."

"What do you mean," Ron said, "is she working for You Know Who?"

"I said you couldn't trust her," Ding said, "I didn't say that she was a Death Eater."

"What did you mean, then?" Hermione asked.

"It's not something I am free to talk about," Ding said, "Just promise me you'll be careful."

"Around our Dark Arts teacher? Always," Ron affirmed.

"I didn't think you would be back this year," Ron said. "Do you think you'll have time for, you know, practice?"

Professor Ding shook her head, "I think you've learned everything I can teach you. I was always better at the softer side of the Way, at any rate. I could put you in contact with a good master after school, though."

"That would be great," Ron replied, but he looked disappointed. "I wish I could learn more this year, though."

"I'm sure you will," Ding said, "but first, you should probably take care of your problem. I'm sure I'll see you around."

"I'm sure," Ron said. They went their separate ways, Ding headed towards her own quarters, Ron and Hermione still heading for Dumbledore's office.

Ron stopped at the gargoyle. "What now?" he asked. "I don't know the password."

"Honestly," Hermione said, "how many different types of sweets are there?"

"You would be surprised," Ron said. He rattled off at least a dozen Hermione had never heard of before the gargoyle finally began to move.

Dumbledore's office was dark. There was a hood over Fawke's perch. At first, Hermione assumed Dumbledore had already gone to sleep, but then she saw him, sitting in the dark at his desk. He wore a gray dressing gown with sparkles, a knit-cap, and his glasses. He was playing with a quill.

"Mister Weasley, Miss Granger," he nodded his head in greeting, "I was wondering how soon you would arrive. Where are Mister Potter and Miss Weasley?"

"They're helping the midgets upstairs," Ron said. He took a deep breath, and then continued, "I wanted to talk to you about the Head Boy badge."

Dumbledore put the quill down. "Yes, I rather thought you might. Have a seat."

Ron and Hermione sat down, and stared at Dumbledore's face. Hermione thought he had aged over the summer. He looked like something was weighing on him heavily. He didn't say anything, but Hermione sat quietly, looking at him. Ron shifted nervously in his seat, like he was waiting for a prison sentence to be handed down.

Finally, Dumbledore spoke. "I cannot shed any light on the events of this summer, for, you see, I myself do not know whom the badge belongs to."

"You're kidding," Hermione said.

"No, I assure you, I am not," Dumbledore said. "This year, we encountered a situation that has happened very rarely in the history of Hogwarts. As you know, the Prefects were unable to reach a concensus on whom should be recommended at the end of last year. Instead, they submitted several names, including both Mister Malfoy's and Mister Weasley's. I had my own feelings on whom should be granted the post, on who best stood for what I believe Hogwarts to represent, as did most of the Professors, most notably Professor Snape. However, the governors believed that I might be somewhat partial in my final decision, and, as a result, they insisted that I take steps to remove my own partiality from the equation."

"How would you do that?" Hermione asked, her intellectual curiosity piqued.

"I used a little known spell, courtesy of Madam Pince, which is related to that used in the Goblet of Fire. Two letters were written, both signed by me, and they were both placed in an ensorcelled Goblet. A House Elf was to remove the winning letter and place it in an envelope with the badge. During the evening, while the letters waited in the Goblet, someone attacked the House Elf. He was found nearby, stupefied, and unable to recall the last week of events. The goblet was empty."

"So, can't you just try again?" Ron said.

"No, I'm afraid not, Mister Weasley," Dumbledore said. Hermione could hear a rasp in his voice that concerned her. She was no mediwitch, but it sounded much like what she had heard in her own grandfather, before he died of lung failure. He continued, and she listened closely, hoping she was hearing something that wasn't there. "The Goblet spell may not be cast for the same question twice, and Hogwarts law is clear. Whoever receives a letter and badge from the Headmaster is, in fact, Hogwarts Head Boy, unless he refuses the post."

"So, they're both Head Boys?" Hermione asked.

"In effect," Dumbledore said, "that is the case. However, Hogwarts law is also clear that there may be only one Head Boy at a time. This presents us with an interesting conundrum. It may be that neither one of them may be considered Head Boy until one or the other refuses the post, of his own free will."

Ron snorted, "The chances of Malfoy doing that on my behalf are about nil, I'd say."

"I can see why you would believe so," Dumbledore said, "but I believe you may not see the whole picture. I believe you underestimate Mister Malfoy. If he did not have hidden strengths, the competition between the two of you might not have been as close."

"They're hidden, all right," Ron scoffed.

"I believe you may wish to think back to an evening last year, when you might have seen some of those strengths for yourself," Dumbledore said wryly. Ron grimaced, but Hermione had no idea what he was talking about. "I did not hear of that from Mister Malfoy, but I do know some of what occurred, and I believe you did not find him to be totally unhelpful."

"What's he talking about, Ron?" Hermione asked.

Ron shook his head. "It was the night I rescued you," he said, "but I'll tell you about it later."

Malfoy had proven himself "not totally unhelpful" on the night of her rescue? She hadn't heard about that before. She wondered what behavior on the Slytherin's part might have constituted a lack of aggression, and if she owed him anything for it.

"I'm afraid I will have to wish you Good Evening," Dumbledore said, rising with some difficulty from his chair. "Events have taken much out of me, recently, and I must eventually sleep."

"Goodnight, Headmaster," Hermione said. She looked at him closely, her eyes heavy with worry.

"Goodnight, Miss Granger," the Headmaster said. He looked her in the eyes, and leaned in, whispering. "Do not worry, it is not quite the last moment yet."

~.~.~

Dejected, Hermione and Ron trudged up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower. Ron's ears perked up as they were still a landing away, and he tugged her arm. "Hurry up," he commanded, "I think something's going on upstairs."

He pulled out his wand, as did she, and they ran up the stairs. The portrait was yawning open, and Harry was in front of it. He had his wand out, pointed at the still nameless girl from the train.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked, keeping her wand pointed at the unknown Slytherin.

"She was trying to get into the Tower," Harry said. "I think she was coming to spy on us."

"Wotcher, Weasley?" the girl said as Ron came into view. "Get all the orange off ya yet?"

"Never mind that," Ron said, flushing. "What were you doing up here?"

"I can explain," the Slytherin girl said, a distinct Cockney tone in her voice, "it ain't what you think." She waved the lock of hair out of her eyes.

"As if I haven't heard that before," Harry shot back.

"Look, I was just coming to deliver a message," she said.

"To whom," Harry demanded.

"I'm not sure I should tell you," the girl said.

"Harry, should I get McGonagall?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, please don't," the girl dimpled, "I don't want to be in trouble on the first day. I promise, you'll never see me here again."

"What about your message?" Ron asked.

"It's not important," she said, "I'll find a different way to give it to the person who needs it."

"What do you think, Harry?" Ron asked.

"I'm not sure," Harry said. "You know what we thought of Malfoy, years ago, when he did his best to get us in trouble. I don't want to be a dirty rotten snitch like him. But she is a Slytherin... Oh, let her go." Harry addressed her, "If we see you around again, though, we'll have to turn you in."

"Thanks," she said, relieved. "I'm sure I'll see you around. Just not here."

"See you," Ron said, waving. She hurried down the stairs. Harry watched her run away, his wand out the whole time.

"Do you think that was wise? Letting her go, I mean?" Hermione asked.

"I didn't want to have to tell McGonagall you were just now coming back, together. I know you were seeing Dumbledore, but since it was a Slytherin trying to get in the door, Snape would have gotten involved..."

"Say no more," Ron said, "You did the right thing. If she's a spy for You Know Who, then he's in more trouble than we thought. How did you know she was trying to get in?"

"The Fat Lady called me," Harry said. "The Slytherin tripped on the top step, and it didn't look like she was going to get up. So, how did it go with Dumbledore?"

Ron scowled, "I'll tell you about it later. Let's get some sleep." He took Hermione's hand, and they all walked into the Common Room together.

A/N - Next Chapter, Approaching the Feet of the Master, wherein Valek and Malfoy hit it off. 


	5. Approaching the Feet of the Master

Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor

Chapter Five -- Approaching the Feet of the Master
    
    
    "For the purpose of answering examinations in your home
    economics class, your teacher is correct. Catching on
    to this principle of education may be of even greater
    importance to you now than learning correct current
    table manners, vital as Miss Manners believes that is."
    -- Miss Manners (quoted in UNIX fortune)
    

Most of Hermione's classes were no different from usual. The exception was the one class that was never the same from year to year -- Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Professor Valek smiled as she surveyed the class, and it wasn't a particularly nice smile. It was an almost predatory look, a look that laid claim to her students as prey. Hermione shivered.

"Welcome, everyone," she began, "I understand you're a fairly mixed class, that most of your professors in this subject have been dismal, with only a few standouts, but you have felt an above-average motivation to excel in this subject."

"I would like to announce that, for those of you who feel sufficiently motivated, we will be holding regular Dueling Club meetings. Dueling Club will be open to those in sixth and seventh year only, as I would like to believe most students of that age will be responsible enough to avoid doing any real harm to each other, and intelligent enough to not complain about anything minor that happens. Those of you who are of age are welcome to sign up after class. I have a stack of Waiver forms -- those of you that are under seventeen and interested, please send them home to your guardians, and have them sign them."

Hermione saw a dark look on Harry's face. He was seventeen now, and of age, so he didn't need to get permission from the Dursley's. He was probably thinking of the person who could have acted as his guardian, Sirius Black. Hermione still had a few weeks to go until her seventeenth birthday, but she figured it would take at least that long to get a message to her parents and back, given the security around them, and she would plan on starting in the Club a little late. 

She returned her look to the teacher. Something was not quite genuine about the way she talked. She had seen it before, in some of the friends her parents had, people who felt that they had to talk using words that they didn't quite understand so that the Grangers wouldn't think they were illiterate. Professor Valek had the same sort of tone in her voice, as if she were reading from a script, rather than really feeling her words.

Professor Valek was a little young to have been a friend of Harry's parents, but she could still easily be insane or a Death Eater. As class continued, Hermione decided that she was banking on insane, even if it didn't fit the pattern. Valek started them with, of all things, Muggle fighting practice. She had what sounded like good reasoning, but it didn't seem like anything that would be on the NEWTS. "If you don't have your wand handy," she lectured, "then you won't be able to depend on curses or charms to save you from a Dark Wizard. As long as you have a hand or foot left, though, you can fight back."

Hermione wasn't surprised to see that Ron took to it like Harry to a broomstick. She also wasn't surprised at the complaints from a few of the other students, especially the Slytherins. As she started to have the students line up for exercises, Malfoy spoke up. "This is outrageous. Mother said that Dumbledore was bragging about his new Dark Arts Professor, that he'd gotten someone who would really reach the students this year, and we have to do these Muggle exercises?"

Valek walked over, shaking her head. "Mister Malfoy, that will be five points from Slytherin for your cheek. Thank you, however, for volunteering to help me with a small presentation."

"You aren't serious," Malfoy snorted, "I will do no such thing. This sort of Muggle fighting is useless to any real Wizard."

"I'm sure you will be happy to help me prove it, then. Please, come to the front of the class, now, Mister Malfoy." Her challenge seemed to motivate Draco, who walked towards her, his head held high.

"Now, we'll have a little duel," she said. "On three?"

Draco nodded, his wand at his side.

She counted slowly, "One...Two...Three!" On three, Draco started to cast the Serpensortia curse. He hadn't gotten more than the first syllable out before her boot connected solidly with his face, knocking him to the floor.

"You booted me in the head," Malfoy said, amazed. "You struck a Hogwart's student." There was a large red mark on his cheek.

"It was just a practice duel, Mister Malfoy. I'm sure you will not argue the point further?"

"I think I need to lie down for a while," Malfoy said, seeming somewhat out of it. "You'll be hearing from Mother about this."

"Mister Malfoy, it was clearly your choice to participate, and I'm certain that any dispute you raise will prove nothing else. However, since you are obviously so fragile, you can go see Madam Pomfrey."

Malfoy bristled, but didn't argue. She called out as he left, "One more thing Malfoy. Five points to Slytherin."

"What?" he turned, confused, and almost fell on face.

"For your cheek," she said, pointing to the red heel-mark on his face. "Thank you for your help in this exercise."

The class didn't get any more normal after that point, but Malfoy didn't return either. Hermione considered that worth the temporary interruption of her NEWT preparation, although she wasn't sure she agreed with Valek that Muggle fighting was generally useful for Wizards. Most of them weren't into athletics, and virtually everyone was huffing and puffing by the end of class.

Hermione felt like she was covered with sweat. She knew her hair had to look positively dreadful. Her one cause for celebration, as class ended, was that Lavender wasn't in Defense class. However, as they left the classroom, she saw that her celebration was premature. Lavender was outside the classroom waiting. "Hi, everyone," she said. 

"What are you doing here?" Hermione growled.

"Nothing," Lavender said. She looked like a puppy dog that had been kicked, her eyes large and threatening to tear. "Just forget it, I was just coming to say hello." She turned and ran away.

Harry and Ron both looked at Hermione strangely. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," she snapped at them, now truly cross. It was if they thought she had done something wrong, when Lavender had clearly been the interloper. 

"Whatever you say," Ron said, "Look, I'll talk to you later, all right? I've got a few things to take care of." He walked off, stiffly. Hermione thought about following, but noticing the odd looks from those around her, decided to head back to her dormitory for a shower.

An hour and many gallons of water later, she emerged from the girls' dormitory feeling almost human. Her legs were cramping up from the exercises that Valek had run them through, but her hair was looking less like a reject for the part of Medusa's wig.

She had some time before her next class, so Hermione decided to walk around the school and try to find Ron. The Gryffindor boys said that he wasn't up in his dormitory. She decided to try the grounds.

Coming down the stairs, she heard Lavender's voice, and cringed. She couldn't think of any reason that she should be happy to see Lavender right now. At best, she might be civil to Hermione, but that was more than Hermione felt she deserved. At worst, she would be talking to Ron.

Her worst fears weren't realized. By the time Hermione got down to her floor, Lavender wasn't as much talking to anyone as being yelled at. Jalaja Rao was standing in front of her, waving her finger at Lavender and shrieking. "You keep away from Hunter, you hear me?"

Hermione saw Hunter standing over by the wall, looking embarrassed. Jalaja was on a roll, though. Some of the students walking by just looked away and hurried on past. Others, like Hermione, felt compelled to watch the ongoing lecture on Jalaja's part about every shortcoming Lavender had ever had.

Lavender took it. She stood there, a single tear rolling down her face, her pale face white with shock. She was swaying lightly, as if she might faint at any moment.

"Leave her alone," Hunter said, walking up to Jalaja.

Jalaja turned on him, and started pointing her finger at Hunter's face, her head weaving to accentuate her point. "You be quiet," she said, "I am not talking to you."

Hermione took advantage of the moment to walk up to Lavender, who was shaking, and put her hand around Lavender's shoulders. "Come on," she whispered, "while she's not looking." Lavender nodded slightly, and went with Hermione back up to Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione left Lavender there, in the dormitory. She still seemed to be in some sort of emotional shock, but Hermione wasn't sure what she could do for her. Hermione noticed that none of the other girls spared so much as a second glance for Lavender. She wondered how Lavender, who had been such a socialite in years past, could have become this much of an outcast. She almost felt sorry for her, although Lavender's growing friendship with Ron made it hard to think nice thoughts about her.

She walked back downstairs again. The base of the stairs was deserted, Jalaja having taken her arguments elsewhere. Hermione walked towards the library, figuring that she could at least get in some studying.

The library was almost deserted, but there were a few people that she recognized there. Luna was reading a copy of the Quiddler, a simple smile on her lips. Hermione read the title of the article she was reading, "Hermann not found at Royal Museum -- Kidnapping or Escape?"

"Who's Hermann?" Hermione asked quietly.

Luna looked up at her. "I didn't see you there," she said, in a dreamy sounding whisper, "Have you seen Ron?" 

"No, I haven't," Hermione said, trying to conceal her annoyance.

"I wanted to show him this story," she said, "it wouldn't have been published without him."

Hermione noticed the byline on the article -- Luna Lovegood. "You wrote it?" Hermione asked, amazed.

"Yes," Luna said, "my family has always had a talent for writing, and my father asked if I would consider writing for him. Ron was a big help on it."

"What did Ron do for you?" Hermione asked.

"Well, he probably won't mind me telling you," Luna whispered. She looked around to see if anyone else was looking. "He got me a statement from his father, that they hadn't found Hermann beneath the museum." She looked at Hermione solemnly.

"And that means..." Hermione trailed off.

"That he must have left! When the museum was broken into last year, some rooms that hadn't been opened in years were checked and inventoried. Ron's father helped with the job, and he didn't find any trace of Hermann. So, it's clear that someone else must have let him out earlier, or kidnapped him."

"Did you quote his father by name?" Hermione asked, dreading what such publicity might mean for him.

"No, of course not," Luna said, "it's much better if we say things like a 'reliable source', or a 'senior official.' That way, no one feels it's necessary to check up on us."

"I see," Hermione said, happy because a crisis had been averted. "If I see him, I'll tell him that you're looking for him."

"He'll be at dueling club tonight, won't he?" Luna asked hopefully.

"I hope so," Hermione said, shrugging, "I know he signed up for it, but I haven't seen him all day."

Pavarti Patil, who was trying to study, looked up at them. "If you're going to talk," she whispered, "could you do it somewhere else? If you're looking for Ron, I thought I saw him headed outside with Malfoy earlier."

"Malfoy?" Luna asked. "What would Ron want with him?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione answered, "but I'm going to find out."

~.~.~

Hermione and Luna walked out the door into the afternoon sun. It was a nice fall day, a little cloudy, a little chilly, but much more livable than it would be in a few months. It felt like about 15 degrees, a slight breeze blowing some leaves past them. She didn't see Ron or Malfoy, but if they had taken a dispute outside, it wasn't likely that they would be just outside the door.

She looked at Luna, "Where do you think they've gotten to? The Forest?"

"No," Luna shook her head, "Malfoy's too much of a coward for that, even in the daytime."

Hermione looked around, and the path caught her eye. "The Pitch," she said, definitively, "that's got to be it."

"That makes sense, I suppose," Luna said dubiously. She followed Hermione down the path towards the Pitch.

They walked briskly towards the Pitch. A few of the exchange students looked at them oddly as they passed. The exchange students, aside from complaining about how bland Hogwarts' surroundings were compared to their own schools, seemed to enjoy being outside. They probably felt less out of place there, she thought, where people in unfamiliar uniforms didn't surround them.

She saw a large muddy footprint on the path, and smiled, pointing it out to Luna. "I think we're on the right track," she said.

It was confirmed only a few minutes later, as they reached the Pitch. Ron's voice was unmistakable. Hermione couldn't make out what he was saying, but she would know that voice anywhere.

As they slipped through the open gates to the Pitch, Hermione heard Ron snap at Malfoy. "Of course, Dumbledore knows all about it. Why wouldn't he? He knows everything that goes on inside the school walls."

Malfoy snapped back, "I think you're giving him too much credit, Weasley. Dumbledore has power, but he can't know everything."

Luna cleared her throat. Hermione found herself oddly disappointed at that, since both Ron and Malfoy seemed to forget what they were talking about. They both looked straight at Luna, Malfoy quickly adopting a blank expression, as if he hadn't been in a shouting match a moment before. Ron seemed surprised to see Hermione, but not disappointed. Startled, he asked, "What are you both doing here?"

"Luna had something to talk to you about," Hermione said, "and I wanted to see you, too." She could feel herself blushing, slightly. Ron didn't seem to notice, but Malfoy's smirk showed that he did.

"Just leave it, Weasley," Malfoy advised, as he strode to the door. "Leave it alone, and don't get Dumbledore involved. It will take care of itself."

Hermione looked at Ron squarely, crossing her arms. "So, was that about the Head Boy Badge?"

Luna looked interested, "I rather wondered about that. There are rumors going around that Malfoy's not the Head Boy."

"He isn't," Ron said, which seemed to confirm the badge as the topic of his secret conversation with Malfoy.

Luna clasped her hands together, and exclaimed "How delightful! I'd love to see the look on his face when that comes out."

Ron grimaced, "I'm not sure it will. Dumbledore is staying pretty quiet about it."

"Were you trying to strong-arm him into giving it up?" Hermione asked. That didn't seem like Ron, but she could see Malfoy driving him to it.

"Not really," Ron said, but he looked shifty. He was trying to hide something, again. Ron didn't do deception well, she thought, which would have been a good thing if it weren't for how hard he had been trying lately.

"I'll leave you two to argue it out," Luna declared, "but first, I wanted to show you something, Ron." She proudly thrust out the article.

Ron looked at it, and smiled, weakly. "That's wonderful, Luna," he said, "so, you didn't have to mention father's name, did you?" 

"No, of course not," she said. "We only need to know we could, in case anyone asks us to retract our statements." She looked haughty, as if she was taking a great deal of pleasure in her newfound role as author. Hermione was trying not to say how silly the whole thing was. Hermann Slytherin, indeed. Luna continued, "I'll see you back at the dormitory, then?"

Ron nodded. "Sure. I'm glad you got printed."

"Thank you," Luna said brightly, "I couldn't have done it without you. I'll see you after I get out of Potions class." She turned and left the Pitch, leaving Ron and Hermione alone.

Hermione felt uncomfortable, being alone with Ron. It was hard to know how to pick things up after the long summer, especially when she hadn't been able to corner him since they got back to Hogwarts. "It's been a while since we've talked," she said, trying to cover her feelings.

"Yes, it has," Ron said. He wasn't meeting her eyes.

"How have you been?" she asked, stepping forward, moving closer to him.

Ron seemed uncomfortable, as well. He moved one of his feet backwards, although he didn't seem aware of what he was doing. "Okay, I guess," he said, still not looking right at her. "It's been sort of a rough summer."

"You didn't say much about it in your letters," she said, "what's wrong?"

"Some bills came due," he said. "It didn't look like we could pay everything. We might have lost the Burrow. That's why I agreed to help out Luna. Her father paid me for my part of the story."

"I thought the Quiddler didn't usually pay for stories," Hermione said.

"That's what Luna said, too. Her father was a decent chap, though. He didn't pay much, just enough to get us through the summer. I worked, too, helping out at the Ministry."

"You didn't mention that in your letters, either," Hermione replied. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was afraid that Harry would find out," Ron said. "You know how he is, he'd feel like he needed to help out."

"If you asked me to keep something secret, I would," she said. She stepped closer to him again, and reached out for his hand. He moved slightly, not letting her take it.

"I'm sure you would," Ron said, reluctantly. "I didn't want you to think..." he trailed off.

"Think what?" Hermione asked.

He shifted between his feet, and looked off to the side, his hands in his pockets. "I didn't want you to think of me as someone poor."

She blinked. "Ron, I already know you're not swimming in Galleons. Why would you think that I would care?"

"It's different now," he said, "we're almost out of Hogwarts. How am I going to support... I mean, what kind of future could I have? I'm not sure what I'm going to do when I get out of here."

"I thought you were going to try for Auror training."

"I'd like to, but it turns out you have to pay for equipment and testing. I don't think I can do that, and there's no way that Fudge will pull any strings on my behalf. He may have come over to Dumbledore's side, but he still doesn't think much of me."

"I'm sure we can figure out something," Hermione said, starting to think analytically. "Maybe a loan -- I'm sure that Harry would be happy to..."

Ron shook his head emphatically, sticking his bottom lip out. "No, I'm not a ruddy house elf! You don't need to be figuring out how to get me out of my mess."

Hermione blinked swiftly, shaking as if she had been hit. "That's not what I meant, Ron. I know you can take care of your problems. I don't have any doubt that you'll come through okay. I don't care what you end up doing after school, I'll still... I'll still care about you regardless." She hadn't said the words either, she realized. It was harder than she thought it would be.

"Thanks," Ron said. He took his hands from his pockets, and took her hand in both of his.

They stood there, barely inside the Pitch doors. The late afternoon sun was almost gone, the sky pink above the bleachers and trees. There was a soft wind that seemed to whistle through the doors. The soft whistling emphasized that they were alone, away from the buzz of the school. Hermione leaned in, pressing her lips against Ron's impulsively.

When they stopped, pulling apart reluctantly, the sun was gone. It had only seemed like an instant, but it was already time to be getting back. "I was worried," Hermione confessed, as they walked back towards the school. "It seemed like there was something you weren't telling me. I thought you didn't care about me anymore. I know it was stupid..." she trailed off.

Ron squeezed her hand lightly, and held it as they walked.

~.~.~

Ron and Hermione walked back into the school, hand in hand. Hermione was smiling faintly, her eyes sparkling. Even her hair seemed to be behaving better than normal. Ron was looking down at the ground, though, not saying much of anything. It had gotten late, and the sky was beginning to get dark.

They stopped as they entered the door. Slytherins were gathered around the large hourglasses that displayed the House Points, and they were sniggering. Hermione saw Millicent Bulstrodepointing at the Ravenclaw hourglass. "Twenty points," she said to one of her housemates, "for being late. Imagine if she'd actually told him why." 

"The way I heard it," a fourth year Slytherin said proudly, "she did, and that's why she's got detention, too."

"You're both full of it," a Hufflepuff who had been standing nearby said. "It had nothing to do with her being late. It was because that ghost wouldn't shut up, and Lovegood didn't run her off quick enough."

"Whatever," Bulstrode shrugged. "It's not like she didn't deserve it."

"Luna?" Ron looked at Hermione.

"Must be," she said. "I don't know of any other Lovegoods here. Why do you suppose the Slytherins are so happy about a few points? It's not like the whole year isn't ahead of them."

"I'm not sure," Ron replied, "but let's go find out. She should be at dinner soon."

Luna was sitting at the dinner table already, although the food hadn't been brought in yet. Her face was rosy, but her expression was distant. Her eyes seemed focused on points far across the room, and she didn't acknowledge Ron and Hermione as they walked up to her.

"What happened in Potions," Ron asked loudly. "We heard some of the Slytherins talking."

"Nothing important," Luna said. She brushed her shoulder with her hand, as if pushing off spider-webs. "I'm not sure why the Slytherins were interested. They weren't even there."

"We were wondering the same thing," Hermione said. "It's a little early to worry about a few points. They said something about a ghost?"

"It was just Myrtle," Luna said. Ron and Hermione both flinched reflexively, knowing that Myrtle didn't like being dismissed. If they had been in her bathroom, Luna's words probably would have resulted in their being drenched.

"What did she do?" Hermione asked.

"She was upset at me for something," Luna answered. She seemed to be choosing her words with caution. "She followed me into class. I hoped that if I ignored her, she would go away, but Professor Snape felt that I should have been more forceful." She looked around, and then leaned forward, whispering. She put her finger to the side of her nose. "I think he was afraid she might say something important, something that others shouldn't hear."

"Like what?" Hermione asked.

"I shouldn't say that here," Luna said. "You never know who could be listening."

Ron nodded his head, as if it made all the sense in the world. "Let's talk later," he said.

"Tomorrow?" Luna asked. "I need to see Professor Snape following dinner, to find out about my detention."

"That'll be fine," Ron said. "I have some things to do tonight, too."

"Like what?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing important," he shifted from foot to foot. "I promised I'd talk with Harry about Quidditch moves. We've got to get ready for the season, you know. It's our last together, here at Hogwart's."

"I'm sure tomorrow will be fine," Hermione said. She saw Professor Snape scowling at them as he arrived at the head table. "We should probably go, before he comes over here."

"Probably," Luna agreed, although she shrugged. "Before you go, though, I have a question for you. Would you have any idea what Harry would be doing in Myrtle's bathroom?"

Hermione and Ron looked at each other uncomfortably. They hadn't told Luna about the Polyjuice they had mixed up in Myrtle's bathroom in their second year. The abandoned girl's room was an ideal place for mixing strange concoctions, since it had an abundant supply of water, drainage, and a lack of students. "Well, a few years ago..." Hermione started out.

"I don't mean before," Luna interrupted. "She said he was there just last night."

"I don't know about that," Hermione said, shaking her head. "He didn't say anything about it to me."

"Me either," Ron said. "Did she say anything else about …"

An unpleasantly familiar nasal voice interrupted from behind them. Hermione jumped a few inches in the air. "Taking pointers on how to interrupt Potions, Weasley?" Draco Malfoy asked. His usual bookends, Crabbe and Goyle, were on either side of him.

Hermione turned towards him, her hands on her waist. "Don't you have something else you should be doing? I hear that there are some cute puppies waiting to be smothered down near Hagrid's hut."

"Not bloody likely," Malfoy replied. "The only way that Hagrid would keep puppies would be if they could breathe fire or if they had three heads."

"What do you want?" Ron asked.

"I thought I'd see if the rumors were true about Loony, here," Malfoy replied. "I heard she had a sort of hairy situation in class today, eh?"

"Leave her alone," Ron commanded, ignoring the gorilla-like Slytherins that flanked him. "You don't need to be getting in any trouble right now, Malfoy."

"And what trouble would I get into, for asking some simple questions?" Malfoy looked innocent. "I was curious about the fate of my fellow Hogwarts student, who I understand had some problems in class today. I would be remiss in my duties as Head Boy if I didn't say something to her about it."

Ron began to reach for Malfoy's lapel, but stopped himself. "I'd like to tell you what to do with your Head Boy badge, Malfoy, but you're not worth it." 

Crabbe grunted. He stepped towards Ron, leering up into his face. Hermione wasn't sure when Ron had become so much taller than Crabbe and Goyle, but it made them much less intimidating when they were seen next to each other. Of course, they were both still much broader than he was. Ron didn't seem to care, though.

"Tell your gorilla to get out of my face," Ron said, "before he's stuffed and made into a trophy."

Hermione pulled on Ron's shoulder. "I think that's enough, Ron." While they had been trading gibes, Luna had gotten up from her seat and moved, sitting down near where Dumbledore was standing, in stern conversation with Professor Sprout. The headmaster looked in Hermione's direction, and his eyes twinkled. She took that to mean that he knew what was happening, and would help. "Let's go, Ron," Hermione said, pulling him away. Malfoy looked beyond them and saw that Luna had left. He frowned, his thin lower lip jutting out in frustration at his prey's escape.

Ron didn't seem all that reluctant to be lead away towards the table. They ate quickly, having one of the best conversations that they had held in months. Ron kept looking over Hermione's shoulder towards the Slytherin table, though, and as they started into dessert, his jaw dropped. Hermione turned her head swiftly to see what he was looking at, and saw that he was staring at Malfoy again. The blond Slytherin had his wand out, hidden from the Professors by the way that Crabbe was standing. It was pointed at Blaise Zabini, who was standing nearby looking perturbed. 

"Should we stop them?" Hermione asked.

"I think Zabini can probably take care of himself," Ron replied. "I can't see what Malfoy's trying to do, though."

"It looks like a variation on the Medici Curse," Hermione said, looking at the way the wand was moving. Before Malfoy could finish the curse, though, Zabini had dropped to the ground. A ray of purple light flashed from the wand, illuminating one of the curtains briefly. Zabini stood up again, now on the other side of the table. He brushed off his robe, and started to walk purposefully from the room. Hermione flicked her gaze to the head table, but the Professors were all still talking to each other. It didn't look like anyone else had noticed the curse or Zabini's maneuvers. If anyone had, they evidently weren't drawing attention to them. That made a great deal of sense from the Slytherin point of view, since they had little to gain in getting some of their own students in detention, but it didn't explain why Malfoy and Zabini had come to wand point.

"Why did Blaise roll under the table?" Hermione asked, more to make conversation than anything.

"He was just dodging," Ron said, "I've been told that you have to do that sometimes." He looked at Malfoy across the room, who seemed to be quite pleased with himself. Then Ron returned his gaze to his dessert, and quickly finished it off, before going to find Harry.

~.~.~

"You have to tell her," Harry said. "She deserves to know."

"I can't," Ron said, "She'll overreact, Harry, you know she will. We'll never hear the end of it."

Hermione didn't really register the words coming from the common room until she was committed to going down the stairs. She hadn't seen Ron since he finished dessert the night before, and she had been looking forward to wishing him a good morning. His words put a pall on that, though. She stepped into the common room, frowning. She pulled at her lip absent-mindedly. She knew that she was starting to blush, not from embarrassment, but with anger.

Ron didn't seem to notice, however. "Hermione! I was starting to get worried. This git," he pointed at Harry, "made it down before you did."

"What were you talking about," Hermione asked, brusquely.

Harry stepped back, grinning ruefully. "I'll let you handle this," he said.

"No need, Harry," Ron replied. He paused for a moment, looking at something in the far left corner of the room. "It's just that Harry promised me he'd spend next Saturday afternoon practicing Quidditch, and that's Hogsmeade weekend. He needs someone else to spot him, so it looks like I might have to stay here. That's all. Nothing else." Harry looked peeved at Ron's announcement. He kept opening and closing his mouth, as if to disagree.

Ginny had come up behind Hermione while Ron was talking. "I can take care of Harry, if you want, Ron. You don't have to miss Hogsmeade for Quidditch." Her grin was predatory, showing her teeth like a goblin closing in on a Knut.

"That's settled, then," Hermione said. Ron started to protest, but Hermione cut him off. "Isn't it? I mean, that's the only reason you were going to stay home from Hogsmeade, right?"

Ron nodded, but he looked nervous. What wasn't he telling her? It bothered her for the rest of the day, so much so that she almost put an extra drop of lilac extract in the mix during Potions class. She made it through without turning Ron purple, though.

Ron disappeared again after Potions, just as he had the previous afternoon. She realized that there was definitely something he wasn't telling her. She wasn't ready to conclude that meant their relationship was at an end, though. So far, he hadn't hidden much from her. If he was hiding something now, it was probably because he was ashamed of it, as with the job. Maybe he was helping Dobby with the laundry or something.

Worrying about it wasn't going to do her any good, she decided, and she knew that she couldn't let her NEWT preparation slide any more. She returned to her room briefly to grab her study materials and a bibliography, then went to the library to look for more materials.

Hermione was searching the shelves for a reference, when she froze. She heard Professors talking in the next aisle over in hushed voices. While she felt guilty for eavesdropping, there had been too many times when overheard statements had saved their lives. She stopped, staring through a small gap in the books, and listened to what they had to say.

"It was probably only another student," Professor Snape said. "As you recall, they have gotten their hands on that book before."

"But they've never felt it necessary to use such violence before!" Madam Pince argued. Hermione edged closer to the shelf, to hear better.

"I'll find out who copped the fish in a hurry," Valek said. She didn't sound as stilted as she had earlier, and her voice had more of a London accent. That wasn't strange -- many Witches were from London -- but it bothered Hermione that she would try to hide it. She also wasn't sure what a fish had to do with anything.

"And, how will you do that?" Snape asked.

"Little bit o'magic," Valek said confidently. "If a student took the book, they probably didn't know about some o'the tricks an Auror could do to find it."

"You're an Auror?" Pince said, astonished. Hermione felt no less so.

"No," Valek hedged, "but me cousin is, and she's not far away. I'll call her in tonight."

"See that you do," Professor Snape said, "but I don't think that we should discuss this where students could hear our conversation, don't you agree?"

Hermione saw something move through a gap in the books, and panicked, as she realized that Snape was looking right at her. She schooled her face to look neutral, and began looking up at the books again, although she saw little help there if Snape decided to question her. She had wandered a section over from where she had started, and hoped very much that she wouldn't have to explain what she was doing in the section on comforting charms for broomsticks. There were other uses for those charms, but she was certainly not going to elaborate them with the Professor.

She quickly walked back down the shelves, looking for the books that she had originally been trying to find. She saw Valek and Pince walk by, but not Snape. Hermione's stomach was tied up in knots. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but she didn't expect that would mean much to the head of Slytherin House.

She kept looking at the books. She was afraid that if she stepped out from the aisle, Snape would pounce on her like a bird of prey on a small rodent. She jumped about a foot in the air when a hand closed on her shoulder, barely managing to smother a shriek that would have surely caught Madam Pince's attention.

She wheeled, and saw Professor Snape standing there, smirking. "How did you get behind me?" she asked, when she'd gotten her breath back. The aisle ended in a wall on one end, and her back had been towards that wall.

"I am a Hogwarts Professor," he replied haughtily. "I have ways of doing things that might surprise you, Miss Granger."

"I'm certain that you do, Professor Snape," she agreed. "Is there something that I can help you with?"

"I believe you may have overheard something of what we were discussing?"

"Only that something was missing," she admitted. She was tempted to deny having heard anything, but knew that wouldn't work well with Snape.

"Do you know anything about the theft, that you would like to share with me, perchance?"

"No, I don't, Professor," she said, puzzled. She knew that Snape didn't think much of her, but she hadn't stolen anything from the library recently.

"It seems odd to me," he said, "that the particular book that was stolen was one that had not been checked out in several years."

"So, it was a book," Hermione said, "I thought Professor Valek said it was a fish."

Snape shook his head. "Professor Valek sometimes lets her London upbringing get the better of her," he said. "For those unfamiliar with her way of speaking, it can be quite disorienting. That's another issue, though. The last student to check the book out was you, Miss Granger, and I was curious as to why that was."

"Me?" Hermione said, wondering what the fuss was about, "I've checked out loads of books, Professor. Why would it matter that I had checked out this one?"

"The book was in the restricted section, Miss Granger, and it would have required a Professor's permission to check it out. Curiously, you had not asked my permission at the time, nor would I have granted it, as the potions in that book are far too easy to misuse. In fact, I seem to remember that you spent some time in the Hospital Wing shortly after you returned the book, with some sort of allergic reaction. I noticed that Professor Lockhart signed the permission slip for the book, and I wondered what you wanted from it."

"That was so long ago," she dissembled, "that I'm not sure I can even recall. It was a busy year." She knew what he was talking about, though. Moste Potente Potions, she recalled, had been the book with the recipe for Polyjuice potion. She wouldn't have gotten it without Lockhart's help, but she hadn't thought about it this year.

"I'm certain," he said, obviously not convinced. "I wondered, though, if you might perhaps have needed the book again. Without Professor Lockhart around, you might have been forced into more desperate measures, if you felt that it was truly necessary. Would there be any chance of that being how things occurred?"

"No, Professor," she said, "I wouldn't like to think of stealing from the library. If things were that desperate, I would think you would know."

"Yes, I would think I would too," Professor Snape said nasally. "I am often the last to be consulted on such affairs, however."

"I assure you, Professor, if I find out anything about the theft, I will tell you personally."

"I will hold you to that, Miss Granger," he said, tipping his head towards her. "Good luck with your studies," he concluded, before slipping past her and going on his way.

Hermione had gotten through an encounter with Snape more or less unscathed. Some people believed that the scales of life had to balance; if they were right, then she had some massive karma backlash coming her way. Looking outside of the shelves, she saw that not everyone was as lucky. Snape had his hands on his hips, and was looking at Alvin Lyesmith, a sharp scowl on the Professor's face. Hermione decided not to press her luck, and quickly left the library for the day.

---------------------------

A/N - This week's title and in-joke is in homage to the Frantics, a Canadian comedy group.

Valek's speech confuse you? It's local dialect, as best as I can render given resources on the web. Those who recognize it, and see problems with the way I'm using it, please let me know.

Who's Hermann? He's mentioned, very briefly, way back in Ronald Weasley and the Armor of Gryffindor. In brief, Luna seems convinced that Hermann Slytherin, illegitimate child of Salazar Slytherin, was still alive and entombed beneath the British Magical Museum, which Voldemort broke into during the summer, wounding Arthur Weasley in the process. Of course, Luna is also convinced that Dark House Elves can be scared off with an iron horseshoe.


	6. Attacks and Reprisals

**Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor**

**Chapter Six - Attacks and Reprisals**

"If people are good only because they fear punishment, and hope for reward, then we are a sorry lot indeed." -- Albert Einstein

The brisk wind of October had forced most of the study groups inside, and the Library was more full than Hermione was used to it being. She was crowded onto the corner of a long table. She felt constantly distracted.

The worst distraction was a pair of students that she never would have identified before this year. Jalaja and Hunter sat across the table from each other, staring into each others' eyes and occasionally playing footsie. It was quite sickening, especially because of how hard it had been to corner Ron.

Ron was never around these days. He had wolfed down dinner the night before before disappearing, and he wouldn't tell her where he was going. She actually felt like she was spending more time in the library than she should, but her preferred occupation, spending time with Ron, was constantly out of reach. She was about at the point of giving up on him. There were too many things that they couldn't talk about. They had played a few games of chess in the common room, and taken one nice walk out by the lake, but very little was ever said.

Not that the library was boring. Jalaja had started to get wound up again. Hermione saw Madam Pince walking towards the table, but Jalaja let loose at full volume before she got there. "Hunter, if you care about me, you will drop the class with that French woman. You spend too much time looking at her."

Hermione decided not to stay for Madam Pince's lecture, although she wasn't sure where else she could go. The first practice for the Duelling Club was tonight, but there were hours to go until then. She expected that she wouldn't be able to corner Ron before then, but it wouldn't hurt to try. She left the library at a brisk walk, leaving Madam Pince's lecture in the distance.

Alvin Lyesmith left next to her. He looked almost as embarrassed as she did. "The library isn't as safe as it used to be, is it?" Hermione asked.

Alvin nodded his head, "I'm starting to think I should just study in my dorm. I can't spare the time for this nonsense, with Snape's detentions taking up all my evenings."

"What does he have you doing?" Hermione asked sympathetically.

"Mostly inventorying potion ingredients," he said. "He's had me clean the caldrons a few times, though, as well."

"That's not fun to do alone," Hermione replied.

"I'm not always alone," Alvin said. "That's one good thing about Snape and detentions, there's always someone else waiting to join the club."

Hermione giggled. Alvin waved at her as he broke off towards the Hufflepuff dormitories. She waved back, and climbed the stairs.

She passed by a group of exchange students, and shook her head. They hadn't been the disaster that Ron and her had feared. In fact, they were almost a non-issue. There were very few of them that she recognized, as they mostly kept to themselves. She suspected that anyone who seemed aggressive or overly talented had been kept home, to avoid possible security concerns.

She went back up to the dormitory to return her books, and was surprised to see Ron, Harry, and Ginny gathered around one of the smaller tables. She started to move towards them, but then noticed something. She stopped, clenching her fists together.

Lavender was walking straight towards Ron, again. Hermione decided that it was time to put an end to this once and for all. "Lavender, could I speak to you for a minute? Over in the hallway, perhaps?"

"Sure," Lavender said, looking confused. She followed Hermione out to the hallway.

"I was wondering something," Hermione said, "Don't take this the wrong way, but could you tell me what your intentions are towards Ron?"

Lavender looked shocked. "My what?"

"Your intentions. You see, you've been following him around like a puppy, and although I must admit that you have an absolutely adorable puppy dog imitation, it's growing old. I would like to understand why you feel the need to follow him everywhere."

Lavender's mouth was hanging open. She didn't say anything. Hermione decided against filling the silence, however, waiting for Lavender to say something.

She waited about a minute, before Lavender started to cry. "I'm sorry," Lavender said, between sobs, "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to come between you and Ron. Everyone knows how he feels about you. How could you even think that I would come between you and him?" She collapsed to the floor, crying in a heap.

Hermione knelt down, and put her arm on Lavender's shoulder. She felt ready to cry herself. Even Jalaja hadn't destroyed Lavender so utterly, although at least Hermione had chosen a more secluded hallway.

Lavender continued, but Hermione had to piece together her words, as hard as it was to hear them through her emotional outburst. Lavender wasn't after Ron, at least not in the way that Hermione had thought. She was clinging to him like a lifeline because he was the only friend she had left.

"Pavarti said she would never speak to me again," Lavender said, as she finally quieted down. "And she told most of the other girls not to, either. I thought that you were on my side. Ron was someone safe to talk to. He didn't judge me at all."

"Pavarti never said a word to me about it," Hermione said. "What went wrong?"

"Do I have to talk about it?" Lavender asked, "it was more than a year ago, and I would rather put it behind me."

"No, of course not. Look, I'm sorry I said anything."

"That's all right," Lavender said, "I deserved it. I'm sorry if you thought I was trying to come between you and Ron. I never would, honestly. I know that he's happier with you."

"He's never with me, though," Hermione burst out. "He's always somewhere else."

Lavender looked at her, "And you thought he was with me?"

Hermione nodded. "You've spent so much time together, especially over the summer."

"He was the only one who wrote me," Lavender said. "Well, there was this lump of coal, but it wasn't signed."

Hermione's heart wrenched. If Lavender sounded any more pitiful, Hermione would have to start an activist group for her. "I'm sorry," Hermione said again. "Look, you're welcome to hang out with us any time you want to. I won't go crazy on you again, I promise."

"Thanks," Lavender said. "That means a lot to me."

"Shall we join the others? They look like they're having too much fun," Hermione held out a conciliatory hand to Lavender, and walked with her back to the table where their other friends sat.

They sat down next to the others, and the table went silent, or at least, Ginny and Harry stopped talking. They both looked uncomfortable, while Ron kept on trying to hold a conversation.

"So, did you hear about what happened to Lyesmith?" Ron asked.

"No," Hermione said. "I was talking to him in the library, and he said he had detention with Professor Snape, but I don't know why."

"He called Snape a freak, when he thought Snape couldn't hear," Ron said.

"You don't sound too impressed," Hermione said, "It's not as if we haven't said worse about him."

"I never called him a freak to his face, though," Ron said.

"No, you didn't," Hermione agreed, "you said he worked for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, that he was evil, probably a vampire, and out to kill all of us, but you never called him a freak."

Ron blushed, and Lavender looked scandalized. "You didn't!" Lavender denied, "You couldn't have said that to him."

"Well, I wouldn't spread it around," Ron said, "We didn't know what was going on back then. It seemed like everyone was always trying to shield us from what was going on."

"And they're doing so much better now?" Hermione asked, sarcastically. "Tell me, do you know how the War is going?"

"Not really," Ron confessed, "but at least I know who's on our side and who isn't." He was leaning back on his chair, as he frequently did. The furniture here was made for younger teenagers, and his legs barely fit under most of the tables.

"You think so?" Hermione asked. "Tell me, what about our new Professors? What do you think about Valek?"

"I think she's crazy," Harry said, breaking in. "She's broken the noses on three different students. And her accent, it keeps coming and going. I'm not sure which one she's trying to hide."

"What about Professor Delaceour?" Lavender asked. "I know Ron's keeping an eye on her. Do you think she works for You Know Who?"

Ron blushed, and dissembled quickly. "I'm not keeping an eye on her, I pay attention to her, is all. She's in love with my brother Bill, if you must know." 

"But she's been acting strangely, hasn't she?" Lavender pressed. "I saw her running back to her room last night, as if someone was chasing her. She's looked so pale recently, too."

"It's probably the climate," Ron said confidently.

"Maybe we should ask her about it," Hermione proposed. She didn't like the idea of spending too much time around Fleur, who always made her feel like she was a thistle standing next to a rose, but she felt that there were too many mysteries at Hogwarts already to pass up a chance to clear one up.

"We were talking about the War," Harry said, cautiously. "Tell me, Hermione, you seem to follow the news best. Have there been many attacks?"

"Some," she said, not wanting to think about what she had read. "Fudge keeps trying to stop him, but mainly it's making people afraid. A lot of Wizards have stopped going out at night, and most homes have a bunch of layers of wards. You need travel papers on file to go anywhere using the Floo. The Ministry of Magic wizards think that if they can keep track of everyone, they'll know who the Dark Wizards are, and they can catch them."

Harry smiled, "That sounds like it will work, at least. How many have they caught?"

Hermione shook her head, "No one new in months. The Dark Wizards don't register, or they use someone else's papers, or they make sure they're tracked going somewhere else when the attack's going on. This isn't a war being fought using papers, and they can't fight it with papers. It's being fought with fear, and you can't fight fear with fear." She stopped talking, realizing that everyone was staring at her. "Well, you can't," she said softly.

"I'm sure you're right," Harry said. "It will come down to me, again, anyway. I don't know where to go, or I'd finish it right now."

"You wouldn't try to fight You Know Who, would you?" Lavender asked, looking scared. "I know you've run into Him before, but really, trying to find Him?"

"I don't know," Harry said, "I wish it would be over. I've got this destiny, you see," he said sarcastically. "Everyone thinks I'm going to be the one to fight Voldemort." He ignored everyone's winces, and continued, "Even Voldemort thinks it's going to be me, that I'm the biggest threat to him. But I'm still moldering here in school. Do you really think I'll have a better chance to fight him after I finish my NEWTs? Will he be more scared of me if I get a lot of them? Or will everyone tell me to wait until I'm done with Auror training?"

Hermione sensed that he might rant for a while. He seemed fairly wound up, but he was saying things that she wasn't sure Lavender should hear, let alone everyone else in the Gryffindor common room. She decided to interrupt him. "Ron," she asked, "have you seen that Slytherin recently? The one you ran into on the train." Ron fell backwards on his chair, as his leaning backwards finally became too much for it. It shattered into firewood with a loud crack, as Ron let out a small whimper of pain.

"Are you all right?" Ginny asked, as she started to help him up. Hermione rushed over to help, and Ron grasped onto her hand tightly. She almost fell on top of him, which might have been his intent, before she and Ginny managed to get him off the floor.

Ron nodded as he stood, "I'm afraid the chair will need a little charming, but I'm fine."

"You could probably use some more charm yourself," Harry pointed out, to near universal agreement. At least Harry had calmed down about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Hermione reflected. Ron's scowl was softened by a sparkling in his own eyes, probably relief at having dodged away from that particular topic.

"Isn't it about time for dinner?" Ginny asked. She winked at Hermione. None of his friends particularly wanted Harry to go haring off after the Dark Lord, although all of them would have gone with him if he asked.

"We'll meet you down there," Ron said. "Hermione, could I talk to you for a minute?"

Hermione blushed. Most of their talks lately hadn't included many words. They were in the Common Room, though, and there were enough other people that Ron probably didn't have such activities in mind. Unless he planned on stopping by a broom closet on their way down.

Lavender looked at Ron before following everyone else down. There seemed to be some sort of message passing between them. It was probably in Hermione's imagination, though.

"I wanted to ask you something," Ron said. His brow was furrowed. He looked concerned. "Do you have any idea if there's something going on with Harry?"

"Something new, you mean?" Hermione asked, "No, I don't know of anything. Has he been dreaming again, like he did over the summer?"

"I don't think so," Ron said, "but he might not have told me. I've woken up a few times at night, though, and he wasn't in his bed. Sometimes his Invisibility Cloak is missing, so I'm sure he's going somewhere he isn't supposed to go, but he's not telling any of us about it."

"Why don't you ask him?" Hermione said.

Ron hesitated, and he looked to the side. He coughed slightly, and then admitted, "I'm afraid of what he'll tell me. He and Ginny have been getting pretty serious lately, and I'm afraid that, you know."

"That he's sneaking out to meet her?"

He nodded, "Exactly, but I didn't want to say it. Could you find out from Ginny if there's anything for me to worry about?"

Hermione nodded. If Ginny and Harry were sneaking off at night, she definitely wanted to know about it. Just for Ginny's sake, of course. In case she needed someone to talk to, about the details. "Sure, I'll try to corner her after dinner. I'll let you know if she tells me anything interesting."

"That would be great," Ron said. "Let's see if we can catch up with them."

They proceeded to dinner together. They were a little late, but there was food to spare, and Harry had saved them both seats. Jalaja was sitting at the far end of the table, next to Hunter. He looked browbeaten. Harry and Ron started into a loud conversation about the next Quidditch match.

Ginny leaned over, and whispered to Hermione in a hushed voice, "Did you hear about Jalaja and Hunter?"

Hermione shrugged, "Is it something new? I saw them in the library earlier."

"Did you hear about what Pince said?"

Hermione shook her head.

"She said that if Jalaja couldn't stop worrying about who Hunter was looking at, and start studying, she wasn't welcome in the library anymore. Then she did something to the doorway, and she said that they couldn't both study in the library at the same time anymore."

"Really?" Hermione asked. She couldn't imagine being banned from the library.

"Yeah. I can't believe her. You'd think Jalaja would learn to stop looking at everyone else's faults. It's not like she doesn't have enough of her own."

Hermione felt as if she'd been slapped. She looked the part; she could feel her cheeks turning beet red.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked. She sounded innocent, perhaps too innocent. She was blinking her eyes quickly, and one corner of her mouth was fighting to move upwards. She was tweaking Hermione, and Hermione had almost fallen for it.

"I was wondering how you would look as a canary," Hermione said dryly.

Ginny laughed, "Ask Fred and George. They've caught me more than once."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised," Hermione said.

"Seriously, Hermione," Ginny said, "You need to be careful. Lavender's a friend of Ron's. She's not exactly one of the gang, but you've got to lay off her."

"We've got a truce," Hermione said, hoping it was true. "She knows to keep her hands off Ron, and I'll stop taking her to task. Do you think Ron noticed?"

"Probably not," Ginny shrugged. "You know my brother, if it isn't a Quidditch ball or a spider, he's not all that observant. Besides, if he had, you probably would have heard about it from him."

"Yes, that's probably true," Hermione acknowledged. "He's not afraid of confrontation, even if he's afraid of saying anything real." That came out more bitter than she intended.

Ginny winced. "Ouch, are things really that rocky between the two of you? To hear Ron talk about it..."

Hermione interrupted, "He talks about me?" She looked sideways to make sure the youngest male Weasley wasn't listening in, but he seemed oblivious. He was still talking about Wonky feints with Harry.

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Constantly. You mean you hadn't noticed? He's completely stuck on you."

"Well, he hasn't shown it much, lately," she grumbled. "Everything was so wonderful last term. We spent so much time together, but this term, he's never around."

"I know what you mean," Ginny said, "Harry's always going to bed early."

"Really?" Hermione said, "Ron said that he's been disappearing at night. He wondered if maybe you would have some idea where he was." She looked sideways at Ginny.

Ginny coughed, her eyes shining brightly. "Well, maybe once or twice... but not usually."

"Ginny!" Hermione said. She was scandalized, but also impressed, and more than a little jealous.

Ginny blushed, "It's only been a few times, though. If Ron says he's not there often, then it's not because of me. Is there something else going on?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. She looked over at Harry. He was still talking to Ron about Quidditch. If there was something else going on, he hadn't told her yet.

"Do you think it could have anything to do with the exchange students?" Ginny asked. She looked over at them. They were sitting in groups, isolated at the ends of the tables.

"Why do you say that?" Hermione asked. "They haven't made any trouble yet. I think we were all worried over nothing."

"Exactly!" Ginny said, "and when was the last time that we were worried for nothing?"

"Well, when Harry went off on his rescue mission, or when we thought Malfoy was behind the basilisk..."

"But we weren't wrong!" Ginny said, "The people who we suspected, they were all up to something, or they would have been, if they could have."

"So you're saying that we should suspect the exchange students on principle? People like that young man over there?" Hermione pointed circumspectly at an exchange student at the end of the Hufflepuff table. He was young, probably a first year, with a dark complexion and black hair. His expression was so vacant that he made Crabbe and Goyle look deep.

"Well, not him," Ginny said, "but that class of people."

"I never thought I'd hear those words from your mouth," Hermione said, stunned. "What's next? Lock up all the Slytherins? Get the Mudbloods, too, while you're at it. You Know Who was one of them, you know."

"I'm not suggesting anything of the sort," Ginny said, horrified by the way Hermione had taken her thoughts. "I think they're risky, though, and so did everyone else, when we talked about it back on the train. Why aren't you worried now?"

Hermione thought for a second. "I guess nothing really bad has gone wrong yet," she said. "If we had people being petrified left and right," Hermione continued, ignoring Ginny's flinch, "then I might feel differently. Right now, though, what could we accuse them of? General suspiciousness?"

"That's all we usually have on the Slytherins," Ginny countered, "and no one's ever said that wasn't good enough."

"Maybe we don't have to worry about all the Slytherins," Hermione countered, "maybe we just need to worry about Malfoy and his crew. Those seem to be the only ones that ever cause us trouble. Even they haven't really done anything this year."

There was a loud piercing scream from the hallway. "I think you spoke too soon," Ginny said.

Hermione stood, rushing towards the hallway. Students parted in front of her, either because she kept calling, "Head Girl coming through," or because they weren't given much of a choice. She had learned to be fairly pushy.

Professor Fleur Delaceour was laying on the ground. She was very pale, and Hermione noticed that there was a spreading puddle of blood underneath her. "Help!" Hermione called, "Someone get Madam Pomfrey!" She looked for the wound, and quickly found a small puncture wound below her rib cage. Hermione risked a quick healing charm, one that would slow down the blood loss.

The other Professors were now filtering in behind her. Professor Dumbledore quickly waved his wand, and levitated Fleur up into the air. The blood, now leaking very slowly, pooled in the air under her as he began to march her up the stairs towards the Hospital Ward. He called over his shoulder, "Professor Snape, please take care of the scene. Professor McGonagall, please do keep everyone calm. Professor Delaceour will be fine, I assure you. I will bring her to the hospital ward with all possible haste."

Professor Snape bellowed, his nasal voice carrying far in the narrow corridor, "Will everyone please move away from the blood! Thank you very much." He leaned over, looking carefully at the area surrounding the place where Fleur had fallen. Hermione began to walk away, but Snape called her back, "You! Miss _Head Girl_." He somehow loaded those syllables with disdain, mocking her by them.

She turned around, trying to keep her composure. "Yes?" Hermione said.

"Take a look at this," he commanded, pointing at the impressions in the dust of the corridor floor.

She bent over, pushing her bushy hair out of her eyes. "I'm not sure what I'm looking for, Professor."

"These imprints," Snape said, "were left by the attacker's shoe. Do you see anything special about them?"

"They're fairly big," Hermione said. "Other than that, though, they don't look different from anyone else's."

"They only look big, Miss Granger," Snape said snidely, "because you're used to seeing what young men here wear, and many of them are still growing. They are actually about average size, and yes, the design is similar to that worn by many of our students. What does that tell you?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione said.

"It tells us a great deal, Miss Granger," Professor Snape said, sniffing. "Ahh," he said, looking up, "some more student help." He sniffed. Both Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley had made their way past the crowd. It looked like McGonagall was keeping everyone else back, including Crabbe and Goyle.

Professor Snape pointed at the imprint. "What does this tell you about the attacker?" he said.

Draco looked at it, "Well, he's probably not from money, since this is from Lincoln and Sons. They were probably after her change purse."

"Very perceptive," Snape said, rolling his eyes. "Mister Malfoy, please help Professor McGonagall with the crowd."

Draco puffed up his chest, and went back towards the throng of students. "Head Boy, coming through."

Snape looked sideways at Ron. "Weasley, would you have anything to add?"

Ron looked down at the imprint, and gasped, "It was a student."

"Precisely," Snape nodded, "I'm impressed, Mister Weasley. Anything more to add?"

"How do you know it was a student here?" Hermione asked.

"The shoe doesn't have mud on it," Ron said, "so they didn't come in the door. Unless there's a Portkey I don't know about, they had to have already been here, right, Professor?"

Snape nodded, "And, as you are no doubt aware, while Lincoln and Sons may not be the height of fashion, it is worn willingly by many students. Strangely, though, I have yet to see one being worn by a Death Eater."

"Probably because Lincoln's a Muggle," Ron nodded. "That's the other reason I said it was a student, but it seems too obvious."

"Well said, Mister Weasley," Snape said. He looked back at the site. "I'm glad that I gave you my vote."

"What?" Ron asked.

"Nothing," Professor Snape said. He turned back to them, smiling faintly. "I do believe we have learned everything that we might from here."

"What about Professor Valek?" Hermione asked.

"Excuse me?" Professor Snape said.

"I believe that she had a relative who had some expertise in these matters?" Hermione said.

"I hadn't thought of that," Professor Snape said. "As it happens, though, I believe that she is otherwise disposed this evening. I will endeavor to find out what I can myself. Unless you doubt my abilities?"

"Never, Professor," Hermione denied, shaking her head violently.

"That's good to hear. I believe that it's time to clean this up." He pulled his wand out, pointing at the floor. _"Scourgify,"_ he said with a wave, and the blood pulled from the ground. So, Hermione noticed, did the foot-print. She no longer thought of Professor Snape as the enemy, though, so this struck her as curious, more than suspicious.

Ron walked her back to the dormitories after McGonagall let everyone go. "So, any ideas on who did it?" Ron asked.

"None," Hermione said. "Do you really think it was a student?"

Ron nodded, "It might have been one of the exchange students, though."

"Would they be wearing British footwear?"

"They might," Ron said, "if they wanted to fit in better."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Hermione said. She didn't want to think it might be one of them. After all, she didn't even know any of their names yet. They talked, and if neither of them could come up with any other ideas, at least they had the chance to talk with each other again.

~.~.~

That night, Hermione woke to hear the sound of screaming from down the corridor. She sat straight up in bed, and looked around. Lavender wasn't in her bed. Pavarti rolled over, groaning.

The screaming stopped, but Hermione wasn't going to leave it at that. She grabbed her dressing gown and pulled it over her nightgown. She rushed down to the common room. The portrait was opening as she came down the stairs, and she saw someone walk in, quickly. She smelled something floral and sweet, but she couldn't see who the person was from the stairs.

The person ran up towards the boys dorms. "Stop," she called, jumping down the last few steps. The person turned... it was Ron. "What were you doing out?" she asked.

"Erm, it's a long story," he said. "Why are you up?"

"I heard someone scream, and I wanted to see what it was. Was Harry with you?"

"No," Ron said. He ran up the stairs, calling over his shoulder, "Wait here!"

She sat down on one of the couches, and waited.

She stood when Ron and Harry came down the stairs a few minutes later. Harry was still in his bedclothes, a robe tied around him. She smelled the floral scent again. It smelled like jasmine, and it seemed to be coming from Ron.

"Did you fall in something?" she asked Ron.

"Something like that," he replied. "But I think you should hear about what happened to Harry."

She looked at Harry. He looked sheepish, as if he had done something wrong. She suspected that he hadn't, though.

"I had a dream," Harry said, "it was terrible. I saw Voldemort, talking with Wormtail. He looked different."

"You Know Who?" Hermione asked.

"No," Harry clarified, "Pettigrew. His face was puffy, and his bottom teeth were sticking out. He looked different. He was angry, he was talking back to Voldemort. But Voldemort didn't seem to mind. He seemed amused."

"Did either of them say anything useful?" Ron asked.

"Not really," Harry said. "Voldemort told Wormtail to make sure that he brought the snake with him, and he gave him a little garter snake."

"He gave him a snake?" Ron asked, "why would he do that?"

"I'm not sure," Harry answered. "That's all I saw."

"We need to tell Dumbledore," Hermione stated.

"No!" Harry said. "He'll think I haven't been practicing my Occulumancy again."

"Does he have reason to think that?" Hermione asked sharply.

Harry looked sheepish, but he denied her accusation. "No. I've been practicing every night. Even Snape can't break through anymore."

"But You Know Who is stronger than Snape," Ron said. "Do you think he's trying to get you to do something for him again?"

"I'm not sure," Harry said quietly. "I'm really not sure. Please, don't tell Dumbledore about it yet, okay?"

Ron nodded reluctantly, "Not yet. But don't do anything stupid."

Harry agreed. Hermione wasn't sure if she should keep his secret, or run to Dumbledore's office right away. She ended up nodding, though, figuring that her friend deserved her loyalty. As long as he didn't believe anything he saw, what harm could come of it?

They separated, going up to bed. Hermione saw that Lavender was in her bed now, fast asleep. She wondered where Lavender had been earlier, but that wasn't an important mystery next to the others she was worried about right now.

~.~.~

The next day, both Ron and Harry looked groggy. Hermione tried to get Ron to agree to study with her, but he begged off, claiming that he needed some rest. After dinner, he said he was going straight up to the dormitories. He wasn't looking at her when he said it. He was looking up at the upper right hand corner of the room. His mouth was slightly pursed, as if he had sucked on a lemon rather than eating three pieces of pumpkin cheesecake.

Hermione followed him with her eyes as he walked towards the doorway to the stairs. He looked back over his shoulder, towards the Slytherin table. Hermione quickly looked to see where he was looking, but she couldn't see anything worth looking at. The usual crowd of Slytherins were all at the table. Draco was joking loudly with Crabbe and Goyle, while Blaise Zabini was sitting at the end of the table, reading a book. As she did every time she looked at the Slytherin table, she looked back and forth for the young Slytherin who had been on the train. And, as always, there was no sign of her.

When Hermione looked back, Ron had gone up the stairs. Harry stood up. "I should probably get some sleep as well," he said.

Ginny stood with him, and Hermione decided that she might as well join the club. She walked with them up the stairs. As they passed the second floor, Hermione saw a flash of red out of the corner of her eye. "Was that Ron?" she asked, looking down the hall.

Ginny glanced in the same direction, "Where? I don't see him."

Harry didn't even look, "He said he was going up to the dormitory. It can't be him." He wasn't meeting Hermione's eyes. He started to walk further up the stairs, but they began to shift.

"Let's make sure," Hermione said, and she walked purposefully down the hall. Ginny followed her, but Harry hung back.

"Come on, I don't think we should follow him," Harry said. "I mean, it's probably not him anyway."

Hermione walked faster. She had seen someone go in the room up ahead. She looked; it was Professor Valek's office. "What is he doing talking to her?" Hermione wondered aloud.

She raised her hand to knock on the door. Harry ran up beside her, talking loudly. "I'm sure it wasn't him, Hermione. Look, let's just get up to the dormitory."

There was some commotion inside the door. Hermione knocked.

"Just a moment," Professor Valek's voice came back.

The Professor opened the door to the room. She was smoothing out a traditional Hogwarts robe. It was the first time Hermione had seen her in one of those.

"Yes? May I help you?" Professor Valek asked. She brushed a strand of pink hair with her left hand.

"Excuse me, Professor, but I'm looking for Ron Weasley. I thought I saw him come in here."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken," Valek replied. "I haven't seen Mister Weasley. I'll make sure to tell him if I do, though."

"That's all right, Professor," she said. "I'm sure I'll find him." She paused for a minute, noticing large dusty foot-prints in front of the Professor's fireplace, which was currently lit.

"I'll see you later, then, Miss Granger," Professor Valek said, closing the door firmly in her face.

"See? I told you he wasn't here," Harry said. "Let's get back to the dormitory."

Hermione walked with Harry and Ginny back to the stairs. Once there was some distance between them and the Professor's office, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm.

"Spill it, Harry. What was Ron doing in Professor Valek's office? And why are you covering for him?"

Harry looked nervous. "I can't tell you that," he said, "not here."

"Back in the dormitory, then," Hermione said firmly. She marched upwards, not listening to Harry's protests.

Once they were back in the dormitory, she led Harry and Ginny to a corner of the common room. "Now, what's this about?"

"Ron wants to be an Auror," Harry said, as if that explained everything.

"And?" Hermione asked.

Harry continued, "He's not doing well in his classes. He might possibly squeak by the requirements, except for Potions. He went to Professor Valek, and she's helping him, but she doesn't want him talking about it."

"Why not? Why couldn't he tell me?"

"I imagine it's because he has other things on his mind when he talks to you," Harry said dryly. "But it could also be because he's embarrassed to admit it in front of you. Either way, I'm not going to defend him for it, or try to explain away his behavior."

Ginny looked at Harry, crossing her arms, "Is there anything else you want to tell us? You know, if you ever kept something from me like that, I'd make you sorry you had."

Harry shifted uneasily, looking down at her feet. "I know," he said.

"So don't let it happen," Ginny continued.

"I understand," Harry said. He wasn't smiling, and neither was Hermione. Harry was keeping something from them, and not very well.

The painting covering the entrance to the dormitory slid open, and Hermione saw Ron come in. He looked a little breathless, and his robe was out of place, spotted with soot.

He looked at his three friends uncomfortably. Harry gestured for him to come over, and he obeyed, but it looked as if he was being pulled towards them against his will. He took short steps, almost stomping on the ground. His face was dark, his eyes shifting around to each of the three, but not settling on anyone elses'.

"Hi everyone," he said, uncomfortably.

"Harry told us everything," Hermione said. "Why couldn't you tell us?"

"I figured you'd be mad," Ron said, cutting to the chase. He seemed relieved.

"I am now," Hermione said, "but why would I have been angry at your getting a little extra tutoring on the side?"

Ron seemed stumped. He paused for a moment, then meekly spoke up, "You're always the one coming up with the study plans, and I didn't want you to think I didn't appreciate it."

"Let's leave these two alone, Harry," Ginny said, smirking. "I think they can work it out from here. Besides, I want to hear what you've been hiding from me."

Ron and Hermione didn't talk much, but they each promised to be honest with the other. They held hands, and sat in the common room, until Ron said that he really did need to go up to bed.

It was late, and Hermione was laying on the couch in the common room, studying Potions, when she saw Ron go by. He headed towards the door. She saw that he had something in his arms, but she couldn't see what it was.

She almost called out his name, but she decided that she was more interested in knowing what he was up to. His story about preparing for the NEWTs couldn't be everything, or he wouldn't have still looked so guilty.

She got up quietly as soon as the painting had closed, and, leaving her book on the coffee table, she followed him. The Fat Lady was indignant about her egress. "Well, doesn't anyone stay in Gryffindor after hours any more?"

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, "but it's important."

"Oh, it's you, dear. You hardly ever go out late anymore, not like the others. I understand. Hurry back, though."

Hermione nodded assent, then headed back for the stairs. She saw Ron way ahead. He didn't seem to have noticed her behind him yet. She walked down the stairs quietly, trying to catch a glimpse of where he got off the stairs.

Hermione was sure she had seen Ron headed for the fourth floor, but she wasn't sure why. Neither of them were supposed to be outside the dormitories right now, although McGonagall probably wouldn't do anything about it.

Hermione turned down the corridor to the Room of Requirements, and stopped. There was a cloud of green dust in the way, the no-entry sign left by Dumbledore. She saw something else, as well: a shape coming through the green mist.

Hermione stepped quickly into an alcove to the side, and hid behind a gleaming suit of metal armor. She saw the shape coalesce into a person, and breathed in deeply when she recognized him. She wasn't surprised to see a Slytherin sneaking around up here, but she would have expected Draco Malfoy, not Blaise Zabini.

Blaise walked past. He seemed wary, and he kept looking around. She stayed as quiet as a mouse. Hermione reflected on how odd it was that the Gryffindors, at least in her years at Hogwarts, had spent more time sneaking around than most of the Slytherins. She supposed it was because only the Gryffindors were brave enough to sneak around at Hogwarts.

Hermione hurried back to the Gryffindor Common Room once Blaise had gone out of her sight. The room was deserted except for Pavarti Patil, who was playing cards alone on one of the tables.

"What were you doing out there?" Pavarti asked suspiciously.

"Oh, you know," Hermione waved her hand negligently, "Head Girl duties."

"Of course," Pavarti didn't seem impressed. She looked back down at her cards.

Hermione sat down on the couch, staring into the fire. She rubbed her eyes, and put her head in her hands.

"Is something wrong?" Pavarti asked after a few minutes.

"I'm not sure what to do about something," Hermione said candidly.

"Is it Lavender?" Pavarti asked hopefully.

"Why?"

"You know, the way she's been going after Ron. Everyone's talking about it."

"She's not after Ron," Hermione said, "at least, not that way. She's looking for a friend."

Pavarti rolled her eyes, "Hermione," she said in a sing-songy voice, "don't tell me that you actually believed that drivel. She's so transparent."

"It doesn't matter," Hermione replied, "Ron's not interested anyway."

Pavarti let out a little giggle. She patted Hermione's hand reassuringly. "Of course he's not, Granger. So, what is your problem, if it isn't with Brown?"

The portrait opened and closed again, but no one entered. Pavarti cocked her head. "Do you have any idea why it's doing that?" she asked. "That's the second time tonight."

"No," Hermione lied. She had an excellent idea of why it was doing that... another Gryffindor had been out of bounds, probably Harry, since it was his cloak that was responsible. She hoped that Pavarti wouldn't continue her conversation now, when one of her friends might be listening.

Pavarti sighed, and looked down at her cards. "Nothing much interesting here, I'm afraid. If you're not going to tell me about your problem, Granger, I think I'll get some sleep. Granger?" Hermione had looked away, trying to figure out whether someone had entered or was leaving. She was visibly distracted. Pavarti sighed again, "Right, I'll talk to you tomorrow then. Granger, you should get some sleep, too." Pavarti quickly gathered up her cards, and went upstairs.

Pavarti was only half-way up the stairwell when a Gryffindor male appeared out of thin air. His feet appeared first, huge feet in fake dragonskin boots. Then the rest of him appeared quickly, as Ron yanked the Cloak off himself. He grinned at her. "Hi, Hermione. I thought she'd never leave."

"Shh!" Hermione scolded, "she might hear you."

"Don't worry," Ron said, moving close to her again.

"I'm not," she said, "I want to be careful."

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking concerned. "You look like there's something on your mind."

"I saw one of the Slytherins out of bounds," she said, "and I didn't do anything about it. I probably should have gone to Professor McGonagall right away, but she would have had to tell Professor Snape, and he would have been on me for being out myself. Assuming McGonagall didn't come after me, herself."

"Who was it?" Ron asked, casually.

"Zabini," Hermione said. "He was up on the fourth floor."

"What were you doing on the fourth floor?" Ron asked. He seemed edgy.

"I was looking for you, if you must know," she said tartly.

"Why?" Ron asked.

"I can't imagine," she sniffed. He broke out laughing, and leaned in to kiss her. She let him give her a peck on the cheeks, but pulled back before he could distract her otherwise.

"Do you think I should tell McGonagall?" Hermione asked. "It's my word against his, but I'm supposed to be the Head Girl. I'm supposed to follow the rules."

"Tell you what," Ron said, "I'll handle it. I'll tell McGonagall. It'll give me a chance to act like a Head Boy."

"Percy would be proud," Hermione replied. Ron leaned in again, this time connecting with her lips. Hermione resisted passively for a moment, not cooperating, then decided there wasn't much point. She leaned into him, too, and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was proud of Ron for taking the responsibility of his position seriously, and grateful for his taking this task off her shoulders. She saw good things ahead for them, if they could survive the rest of the year as a couple, and if Ron didn't fly off the handle when he heard what she planned to do after Hogwarts.

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A/N - This chapter is dedicated to the players (and the other admins) on our short-lived play by web Hogwarts game. I think most of the ones who would care have found the fic by now.

As far as I know, there is no British Footwear manufacturer named Lincoln and Sons - I even went to the appropriate organization site to check. If you know otherwise, let me know, and I'll change to another neutral name. I'd rather not use anyone's trade name if I can help it.


	7. Triangles, Tangents, and Signs

**Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor**

**Chapter Seven - Triangles, Tangents, and Signs**

Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive. -- Shakespeare

"What do you mean he hasn't told you?" Hermione asked.

"I mean precisely that, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, looking over her glasses. Professor McGonagall was seated at her desk, going through Transfiguration papers. Hermione had only dropped in to ask about a paper, but had ended up bringing up what she had seen last week. "Perhaps it slipped his mind," McGonagall continued. "Halloween is a busy time at Hogwarts, after all."

"But he promised me he would," Hermione said weakly. This felt like the culmination of a string of failures on Ron's part, yet another time he hadn't lived up to his word. It was like he wasn't himself, she thought.

"Miss Granger, I suggest you take it up with him. For my part, I am willing to let the matter lie, at least until the next time Professor Snape sees fit to complain about night-time wanderings on the part of Gryffindors. Unless you have some objection?"

"No, of course not, Professor. Whatever you think is best," Hermione replied.

"I had another item I wanted to discuss with you, Miss Granger," the Professor said, not meeting her eyes. "I've heard that you had some words with our Dark Arts Professor in class today."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "That was nothing, Professor. It's not worth discussing."

"Is that so," Professor McGonagall said dryly, and now she was meeting Hermione's eyes. "I'm so glad that you, as a Hogwarts student, are so well aware of what is worth the time of your Professors."

Hermione blushed, "I simply meant that it was a misunderstanding, Professor. She believed I meant more than I did by my comments. I was only trying to explain..."

"Miss Granger, Professor Valek is a valued member of our Faculty. We owe it to her, during her brief tenure here, to give her the same courtesy that anyone else currently teaching here would receive. Is that clear?"

Hermione nodded. "Her brief tenure? Is she going somewhere?"

McGonagall snorted. "She's teaching Dark Arts, Miss Granger, not Herbology. She's not likely to put down roots."

Hermione snickered to herself. She answered the Professor's point, "I'm sorry, Professor, I didn't mean to be disrespectful. Professor Valek is certainly better than most of our other Dark Arts professors have been."

"Amen to that," Professor McGonagall agreed. She smirked slightly. "I'm glad you realize that things could be much worse. However, I still expect you to show her more respect. I'm afraid that I'm going to have to deduct five points from Gryffindor for your behavior."

Hermione started to blink, furiously. She had a catch in her voice, "I'm sorry, Professor, it won't happen again."

"I'm sure that it won't," McGonagall agreed. "Miss Granger, you are an excellent student, but you are still a student. You will not always know enough about Hogwarts Professors to be able to know their hearts. On those occasions, there is only one thing to do, and it isn't talking back to them in class, or setting their cloaks on fire."

She knew about that? Hermione had never fessed up for what she had done to Snape, back in her first year. She knew that McGonagall was waiting for a question, though. "Then what should I do, Professor?"

"Trust Dumbledore's judgement," McGonagall replied.

There were rebuttals to that; Hermione could point out the times that Dumbledore had been wrong, or had seemingly had his own agendas. She didn't think those words would carry well with McGonagall, though.

Her distaste must have shown on her face, as McGonagall pursed her lips. "If you can't trust Professor Dumbledore, Miss Granger, then at least trust me. I believe that Professor Valek is firmly on the side of right, and firmly against the side of He Who Must Not Be Named. She may safely be described as unusual, and possibly even eccentric, but she is deserving of your respect. Understood?"

Hermione nodded. She rubbed at her eyes. "I understand, Professor McGonagall."

"Good," Minerva said. "Now, I believe you wanted to ask me about your Transfiguration assignment?"

Professor McGonagall swiftly launched into a technical discussion, which Hermione quickly joined. Both acted as if they hadn't discussed anything untoward at all, but there was something different in their relationship.

Hermione knew that Professor McGonagall instinctively trusted Dumbledore. Like many other adults, both at Hogwarts and elsewhere, the Professor believed that the Headmaster could do no wrong.

Hermione didn't agree. She respected Dumbledore greatly, but she felt that the attitude that was expected of her was almost one of worship. It wasn't right, she thought, to give so much devotion to one person.

Up until recently, her disagreement hadn't been noticed. As she was solidly on the side of right, if not an official member of the Order of the Phoenix, it was generally assumed that she was one of Dumbledore's disciples. She had proudly proclaimed herself one of Dumbledore's Army, but that was as far as she would go.

When their discussion was over, no more personal words being said, she left Professor McGonagall's office aware that the gulf between her and her favorite professor would be difficult to bridge. The other gulfs in her life looked no easier.

Ginny was the only friend she had that she still felt as close to as she had in previous years. Harry was a good friend, but he had started to cover for Ron. It felt as if he was choosing sides, even though Ron and Hermione were still nominally a couple.

Ron was an enigma. He was openly romantic towards her, and it was obvious that everyone thought of them as a couple. She still nursed a fear that he was actually completely disinterested in her, and that he would end up leaving her for someone else. Every time she came close to saying something that straightforward to him, though, he would make a joke, or kiss her, and she would stop asking.

That was as much her fault as it was his, she knew. If she kept asking, instead of falling silent, he would have to answer her, or at least he would have to openly refuse to do so. She had been afraid of that sort of conflict, but postponing the inevitable wouldn't help matters any. She decided that it was time to make him tell her, kisses and jokes notwithstanding.

Ron skipped dinner, and she didn't see him that evening. Harry didn't try to make any excuses, this time. He seemed as mystified as she did. She didn't think it was worth bringing to Professor McGonagall's attention, though. Right now, her only cause for concern was that he hadn't told her where he was going. While that might bode ill for their relationship, there wasn't anything in the Hogwarts regulations that said that a Head Boy had to tell the Head Girl where he was going. She had checked. Twice.

She waited patiently by the painting. She had a book in front of her, but it was closed. Her chair and table were positioned so close to the painting that even if he had an invisibility cloak on, he wouldn't get by her without her being able to get her hands on him. He would be surprised if he tried, but she had determined that she wasn't going to let him past without talking this time, and he might just do anything to avoid that.

The painting didn't open until after midnight. She was having trouble keeping an edge on her frustration.

Ron yanked the Invisibility Cloak off himself. "Hermione? What are you still doing up?"

"Waiting for you!" Hermione said, her tone frosty. "Where were you?"

"Another late night study session," he said. At least he didn't smell as much like jasmine this time. His robes were ruffled, and there was a bruise on his neck.

"What sort of studies were they?" Hermione asked, looking at the bruise.

Ron adjusted his robe, covering up more of his neck. "What set you off? I'm just trying to take the NEWTs seriously. I would think that you would be all right with that."

"I would be," Hermione said, "if you'd be honest with me."

"I am being honest with you. What's all this about?"

"You never told McGonagall about Zabini."

"No, I told Valek. I figured she could tell Snape if she thought it was worth worrying about. Were you checking up on me? You were, weren't you? And you were waiting here for me, all ready to act the Head Girl."

"That's not why I was waiting," Hermione said. "I was waiting here because you never talk to me any more, and you never tell me where you're going."

"Hermione," Ron said. He reached up, running his fingers along the edge of her cheek tenderly. "You know how I feel about you, don't you?"

"No, I don't," she said. "You haven't told me."

"I'm sorry," he said. He leaned over, and kissed her. Hermione had promised herself that she wouldn't fall for this again. He was still kissing her.

What had she promised herself, again? She kissed him back, her arms enveloping him. She broke away, reluctantly. "Will you promise to be honest with me?" Hermione asked.

Ron nodded, "Of course, Hermione. You know I care about you."

Care about her, he said. She would have to take what she could get, but she wished he had said something more. He gave her a peck on the cheek, then turned and went up to bed.

They were both exhausted the next day. Since it was Saturday, that normally wouldn't have caused a problem, but it was also a day for Quidditch practice. Hermione could get by without much sleep on those days, but Ron didn't play or captain well when exhausted.

Hermione hadn't spent much time worrying about Quidditch this season. It was one more thing that conspired to separate her from her friends, especially since the other three of the gang of four were all on the team, at least as alternates.

The first game of the season had already come and gone, with Gryffindor pummeling Hufflepuff. The Ravenclaw game didn't look like it would be very interesting, with Cho Chang's leadership long gone, and the powers that be had scheduled Slytherin's game against Gryffindor as the last of the season, as usual.

Gryffindor and Slytherin had practices scheduled back to back in the morning, and by the time Hermione roused herself to come down and watch, there were already a few Slytherins waiting on the sidelines.

Ron was struggling, she saw. The training he had gone through last year was still helping him out, but he moved more slowly than she was used to. On the other hand, he was also dodging the occasional bludger, rather than trying to catch them all. She wasn't sure when he had learned that, but she thought it was an improvement.

As their scheduled time grew near, the Slytherins started to taunt the Gryffindors loudly. It wasn't considered good form, but none of the Professors were on the pitch to stop it. When Hermione approached them to ask them to settle down, Draco flashed his Head Boy badge at her, and smiled wordlessly, challenging her to make a fool of herself.

Not all of the Slytherins who were there were actively making snide comments. Blaise Zabini was sitting nearby, and he seemed to be fairly bored. She wondered if he was connected with any of the Slytherins who were there, since he obviously wasn't there for the match.

She looked back up at Ron. He was landing, now, practice over. The Slytherins were jeering at him as they always did, but he was getting better at ignoring them. It had become easier since he had built up a history of winning, but he still seemed to take their criticism too seriously.

She ran over to meet him, to walk with him back up to the dormitories. He didn't change in the changing rooms here on days when the Slytherins practiced, not since the day his underwear had vanished. He hadn't told her about it, but she had heard about it from Ginny, who heard from Harry.

Ron met her in front of the stands, not far from Zabini. "Thanks for coming down," he said. He didn't mention that she hadn't been there long, and she wasn't sure if he had noticed. He was fairly intent when he was in the middle of a practice.

"Look out!" Harry called. Hermione whirled around just in time to see a Bludger coming for her face from above. She tried to get out of the way, but she tripped over her feet. The Bludger turned to come after her. It was almost at her face, when something stopped it.

She heard a loud crack. When she stood back up, she saw Ron standing over Blaise Zabini, holding tightly to the Bludger. Zabini was holding onto his arm, rocking back and forth.

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

"Zabini stopped the Bludger," Ron said. "Bloody idiot broke his arm."

"A little gratitude, Weasley," Blaise said through gritted teeth. "I did save your girlfriend's good looks."

"Thanks, Zabini," Ron said, "I mean it. You're still a bloody idiot, though."

"Do you need help getting to Madame Pomfrey's?" Hermione asked. She had a Prefect's meeting in the afternoon, but she could spare the time to get Blaise some help, given that he'd blocked the ball for her.

"I'll take him," Ron said. He pulled Blaise up by his good arm, and they started limping off. "You just get to safety before I let this Bludger go, and I'll see you this afternoon."

Hermione nodded reluctantly. She had been looking forward to the walk back with Ron, but steering clear of mad bludgers was also a good idea.

As she walked away, she heard Zabini murmur to Ron, "Too bad it wasn't you he was aiming at, or I would have let it go. You need more practice."

She turned around and looked at Ron sharply. Was Zabini talking about what Ron had been studying last year? How would he know about that?

Ron flashed an annoyed look at her, "Don't worry about us, Hermione, we're just moving a little slowly. Get clear before you get bludgeoned, all right?"

She nodded, but kept the question in mind. Something wasn't right with Ron and Blaise, and she was determined to figure out what it was, in addition to all her other questions about Ron.

Ron wasn't at the Prefect's meeting. Hermione wasn't surprised to see that, although he had done better this year than in previous years. He had been to at least half of the meetings, after all.

Professor Snape was at the meeting, and she was surprised by that. They didn't usually have faculty members at the meetings unless they were there to address something that was on the agenda, and Professor Snape didn't have anything on it this time. She was also surprised to see Madam Pince there. The librarian had only made it to a meeting once before, to request that the Prefects tell their respective houses to reduce certain unapproved uses of the library study rooms. Since Hermione was now Head Girl, she was the one in charge of the agenda, and neither of them had requested any of her time ahead of the meeting.

"Before you begin your formal agenda, Miss Granger," Professor Snape said, noticing her interest, "I would like to request that you allow Madam Pince and I to address an item of some importance."

"Of course," Hermione said. "If everyone will please come to order!" The group quickly sat down. One advantage to having Professor Snape at a meeting was that no one was willing to be difficult. "Professor Snape has asked that he be allowed to address the group. Any objections?" There was a murmur of denial, and she nodded towards him. "The Chair recognizes Professor Snape and Madam Pince."

"Thank you, Miss Granger," Professor Snape said. "I'm here because of an event that happened earlier today. Apparently, one of the Hogwarts students took it upon himself to begin a duel with one of the Beaubatons exchange students. You will hear about this through the rumor mill soon enough, if you haven't already. The student was Mister Alvin Lyesmith."

Professor Snape continued, "Madam Pince witnessed the event, which happened near the entrance to the restricted section of the library. I have asked her here to support the discussion of the events."

"Professor Snape," Hermione said, "forgive me for interrupting, but why are we being involved in this? It sounds like a matter for his Head of House and the Headmaster."

Snape's lip curled. "As it happens, that was my position as well. However, Professor Dumbledore believes that it would be in our best interest to retain Mister Lyesmith, for reasons that he has not felt it necessary to explain. As such, we think it is important that all of you understand that this is a special situation, and that you are ready to explain to your students the truth of what occurred, in order to forestall further incorrect rumors. We also believe that it is important to let our students know that further clemency of this sort is not likely to be granted, and any further such incidents will be punished with expulsion."

"I understand," Hermione said, although she didn't. Why would Professor Dumbledore intervene in favor of someone who had started a fight in the library? She didn't dislike Alvin Lyesmith, but she didn't really think about him one way or another. He wasn't an academic star, let alone the Chosen One to bring down Voldemort. It didn't make sense for Dumbledore to bend the rules so far for him. "Please continue, Professor. I apologize for the interruption."

"Quite all right, Miss Granger. As I was saying, the incident occurred in the library. I believe Madam Pince can take the discussion from here."

Madam Pince cleared her throat. She looked less forceful outside of the library than she did in her element. In the library, she carried herself as master of all she surveyed, while here, she almost seemed to have shrunk. "Yes, well, it began when Mister Lyesmith said something, which I will not repeat, to a young woman from Beaubatons. She shrieked back at him in French, whereupon he removed her cap, mussing her hair. She questioned his ancestry, and he responded by pulling his wand, and beginning a spell. Before I was able to get involved, both students had their wands out, and both had begun spells. Fortunately, I was able to disarm them both before they completed casting any magics against each other."

"Well done, Madam," Draco Malfoy said, "how did you manage that?"

Madam Pince looked down her nose at him. "In my library, Mister Malfoy, no one is second to me." She continued with her description. It sounded to Hermione as if there was no doubt that Alvin had done what he was accused of. She couldn't help but wonder again what was in Dumbledore's mind.

When Madam Pince had completed her story, Hermione was ready to go to Dumbledore herself. Professor Snape must have sensed her outrage, because he spoke directly to the heart of them. "Many Hogwarts students have made mistakes, and I believe that they should suffer the full consequences. In the case of Mister Lyesmith, he will be working in my laboratory for the remainder of the term, and will also be working as my personal assistant. I believe that I can make his responsibilities clear enough that he will feel suitably punished. As to further punishments, I'm afraid that Professor Dumbledore has made his position most clear."

Madam Pince spoke up, "In addition, Mister Lyesmith will no longer be allowed in or near the library for the remainder of the term. Professor Dumbledore could not deny me this punishment." She breathed sharply through her nose, sniffing her disapproval of him.

"Thank you for the information, Professor Snape, Madam Pince," Hermione said. "I appreciate the information. I'm sure that all of us will ensure that the students are properly informed, and that they understand the consequences of unapproved duels." Professor Snape and Madam Pince nodded their thanks, and left. Madam Pince almost ran from the room, probably afraid of what might have happened to the library in her absence.

After Snape had left, Anthony Goldstein spoke up. "I didn't want to talk about it in front of them, but there's something you should probably know about Lyesmith."

"Yes?" Hermione replied. "That is, the chair recognizes Anthony Goldstein."

"I'd rather not have this in the notes," he said uncomfortably. Padma Patil, who was keeping the meeting minutes, put down her quill, and nodded.

"Lyesmith was pretty broken up when he came to the train station this year. I noticed that his mother hadn't brought him -- it was one of his Aunts, from Edinburgh. I said something about it, and his Aunt hushed me up. After he got on the train, I went back and asked her about it. She said his mother passed away this summer. I don't think that excuses his behavior, but Dumbledore does have something of a soft spot for orphans." He looked straight at Hermione, and she knew he was thinking about Harry. "I wouldn't be surprised if that's why he's being given another chance. He may not have anyone to go back to."

"What about his father?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not sure," Anthony Goldstein said. "I didn't have a chance to ask his Aunt, and Alvin hasn't been willing to talk about it. I know his father used to travel a lot, though. He worked as a magic hair tonic salesman, spent a lot of time all over Europe. Alvin hasn't said a thing about him all term. I don't mention it to burden anyone," he hastened to add, "but I do think it might help to know. If anyone says anything bad about him, for example, it might be good to know that he's got issues of his own."

The door burst open, and Ron rushed in. "Look who's here," Draco said, "and only fifteen minutes late."

"Late?" Ron said. "Oh, the Prefect's meeting. That's not what I'm here about. Did you hear about Hunter?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "Not you, too, Weasley. I thought it was only the girls who were obsessed with the little love quarrels always going on at Hogwarts."

Ron shook his head impatiently, "That's not what I mean. He's been turned to stone! Neville found him, on the second floor."

Most of the Prefects stood up. looked questioningly at Hermione, her quill posed over the paper.

"I suppose it's futile to continue," Hermione said. "I move to table all further business until after the Yule break. Do I have a second?"

"Aye!" shouted about half the students.

Only a few of them waited for Hermione's "Dismissed," before they ran out the door. Hermione and the other Prefects arrived at the scene to find that Professor Valek had already chased off most of the students. She sighed at the arrival of the new crowd.

"If it isn't our favorite Head Girl," she said, looking at Hermione. "Don't worry, we have everything under control."

Someone seemed to disagree. There was a loud wailing from nearby, and a series of splashes. "What's that?" Hermione asked. She looked around, and fixed her eyes on a familiar door - Moaning Myrtle's washroom, the antechamber to the Chamber of Secrets. "Myrtle?" she asked.

Valek nodded, "Exactly. That is one thing that you could do," she said, smiling. Her smile looked uncomfortably like a predator's. "Would you be able to take care of Myrtle for me?"

"Certainly," Hermione nodded. She didn't feel that certain about it, but she wasn't going to refuse a request from Valek. If she did, and McGonagall heard about it, she wasn't likely to understand.

Hermione opened the door to the washroom cautiously. "Myrtle? Are you here?"

Myrtle called out, "Yes? Has someone come to see poor Myrtle, poor moaning Myrtle?"

"It's me, Hermione Granger," Hermione answered.

"Hermione Granger?" Myrtle said, "I don't suppose that Harry came with you?"

"No, he's not here," Hermione said. "It's just me. Listen, I wanted to ask you about the boy outside."

Myrtle shrieked, "Of course, you'd never come to talk to Moaning Myrtle unless you _wanted_ something. Hardly anyone ever comes to visit me."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, "it has been awhile. Is there anything new you'd like to talk about?"

"Anything new?" Myrtle wailed. "Of course, you're just being cruel, reminding me that everything always stays the same, now that I'm dead. Just poor, dead, Moaning Myrtle."

"Well, I'm here now," Hermione tried to force herself to smile, "and that's a start. So, what would you like to talk about?"

"How about boys?" Myrtle said, promptly landing on the ground and crossing her legs. She had a cherub-like grin on her face.

"That sounds great," Hermione said, although she thought that she was probably opening herself up for a complaint. "Who would you like to talk about first?"

"I heard that you and Ron Weasley were finally together," Myrtle said. "He seemed so nice. I used to wish that he would come and spend more time with me in my washroom, but he never did. He doesn't even use the Prefect's washroom," she said, smirking.

"I think Harry may have said something about it to him," Hermione said, remembering how upset the idea of Myrtle's spying on the washroom had made Harry. For her part, Hermione was more worried about the Bloody Baron. She had caught him, once, floating inside the shower. She would have banished him in anger if he hadn't floated back through the wall.

"That wasn't very nice," Myrtle said, enunciating every word. "It's not as if I can actually do anything with him, since I'm dead. Although, if he were to die, he could share my washroom with me."

"It's a very nice bathroom," Hermione said, "but he has no intention of dying. I wouldn't stand for it."

"That's nice," Myrtle said, "I wish someone had cared that much about me, back when I was still alive."

The door to the washroom opened, and Professor Valek stuck her head in, smiling. "Thanks, Hermione, for your help. We're done out here now, you don't have to keep Myrtle company any more."

"You were just using me!" Myrtle shrieked. "You didn't really want to talk to me at all."

"Wait!" Hermione said, "I did want to talk to you. You said someone else had visited you. Who was..."

Myrtle dove into one of the commodes, and a fountain of water erupted, dousing Hermione. Valek was still smiling. "I'll be going now," she said to Hermione.

Hermione glared back at her, as the door shut. "That wasn't very nice, Myrtle," she said. "I really did want to talk with you. Myrtle?"

She heard the echoes of sobs through the pipes, and decided that there wasn't anything more she could accomplish here. She decided to head back to the dormitory to change before dinner. It was almost time for everyone to leave for Yule holidays, and the dinner was a big deal, especially as Hunter's attack had made some of the students leary about coming back once they had a chance to leave.

"What do you think she's up to?" Harry said, glancing at Luna. She was walking towards Jalaja, who wasn't that far away from them. They were milling about with everyone else, waiting for the elves to finish with their decorations for dinner.

"I'm not sure," Hermione said. "I feel sorry for her, but that doesn't mean I'd risk approaching her."

"Sshh," Ginny said, "I'm trying to hear."

"So, how is Hunter doing?" Luna asked Jalaja, a smile on her face.

"Why do you want to know?" Jalaja glared back.

"I was just curious," Luna said dreamily. "I was doing some reading on causes of petrification in adolescent males. I wondered if you had any idea of why he had become stone."

"It's not my fault," Jalaja snapped, "I don't know what happened to him. Ask Pomfrey if you want to know, don't ask me."

"I will," Luna promised. "Have they said anything about when they'll have the Mandrake extract ready?"

"The Mandrake extract?" Jalaja seemed confused.

"For turning him back," Luna clarified.

"No, I haven't talked to them about it," Jalaja said. She turned her head, and started to talk to someone else, ignoring Luna.

"You don't know?" Luna asked. Hermione was listening intently. She had thought the idea that Jalaja had anything to do with Hunter's petrification to be too optimistic. Things were rarely that straightforward, and if Jalaja had gotten truly upset with Hunter, she would have thought she would have used her wand. Or possibly her fingernails, judging by the way she was flexing them.

On the other hand, Jalaja was acting as if she didn't care that Hunter was currently a hunk of stone, as long as he wasn't anyone else's hunk. That was strange, even for her.

"No, I don't know," Jalaja snapped. "Why do you care? You're just some crazy loon. You don't think Hunter would ever care about you, do you?"

"No, I don't," Luna said, without emotion. Hermione wondered how she did it, how she put up with the endless insults and attacks. "I was only asking how he was doing, and if there was anything I can do to help."

"You're trying to steal him from me!" Jalaja shrieked. "You're jealous! You want to get back at me, for last summer!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Luna said, sniffing. "I wouldn't touch Hunter with a ten foot wand."

"Now you're insulting him, too!" Jalaja screamed. She pulled her wand out of her pocket. "I demand satisfaction! You will be sorry! You will..."

She was interrupted by a nasal, but penetrating voice from behind. "Petrificus Totalus!"

She stopped in mid-rant, her wand still pointed out. Professor Snape came up behind her, shaking his head. "Disgraceful," he said. "For things to have come so far. I would have hoped that our Head Boy and Head Girl would be able to stop such outrageous behavior."

Draco seemed to appear out of nowhere. He hadn't actually Apported, but Crabbe and Goyle had cleared him a path so quickly that he might as well have. "Professor, I only just got here."

"I wasn't talking about you," he said. "Ten points from Gryffindor for letting things get out of hand. He smirked, then turned his back on Ron and Hermione.

"Bloody hell," Ron swore, as Snape picked up the frozen student and put her over his shoulder. The Professor walked away. Hermione had to admit, he had a certain style.

"Do you think he'll put her next to Hunter?" Luna asked, with a mischevious smile on her face. "That way, she would at least know how he was doing."

"I don't know," Hermione replied, "but at least there's one benefit. I don't think she'll be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas."

"But, Professor," they heard Draco whining, as he walked after Professor Snape. "You just called Weasley the Head Boy."

"He did, didn't he," Ron said to his friends, smiling again bigger than ever.

A/N - By the way, for better or worse, I've changed the whole process behind publishing these chapters. Initially, I did all the work in text files using vim, then loaded into Microsoft Word, ran spell/grammar check, saved as HTML, then ran the World Wide Web Consortium's HTML Tidy to cut out about 2/3rds of the file size. For the last chapter and this one, I cut out Microsoft Word, and instead loaded everything into KDE's KWord. Why do you care? Well, the good news is, it cut out about a half hour of wasted time per chapter. The bad news is that the spell checker that KDE uses doesn't check grammar and isn't as good at spelling, which means my poor beta reader is having to work a lot harder, and I suspect something will slip past her. If you find any errors, just let me know (email if you don't want to put them in a review), and I'll fix them. Thanks for your understanding.

Updated: Well, I thought there might be some problems, but I didn't expect those! My profound apologies to those that tuned in to this chapter within the last week, and saw what was really a work in progress.


	8. Christmas at Ground Zero

Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor

Chapter Eight -- Christmas at Ground Zero

"'And lo, the Huns and other Germanic tribes did drape evergreens with the intestines of their slain enemies to ward their encampment against intruders.' And that, Torg, is where garland on Christmas trees comes from... It's true! I read it on the internet!"

--Riff (Sluggy Freelance)

The scent of Yuletide was in the air, chestnuts roasting on the open fire, sweets around every corner. The House Elves had decorated the school from top to bottom, although Hermione noticed Gryffindor tower wasn't quite as well done as the rest of the castle. The other Gryffindors blamed Hermione for it, but she was proud to have taken some of the burden off the beleaguered house-elves.

Hermione sat on the couch, her feet up on the coffee table to be warmed by the fire. It was Christmas, and Hermione was spending it at Hogwarts again, as were most of her friends. And Lavender. Hermione had considered going home, but she had too much studying to do for the NEWTs. Besides, she hoped that she could spend some time with Ron.

Ron came running down the stairs, but he didn't look happy. "Hermione," he asked, "have you seen Harry?"

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Ron," she said crossly. It sounded like Ron wasn't even pretending to care anymore.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, but he kept talking. "He's not in his bed. It's been slept in, but he's not there, and his Cloak is missing."

"What about the Map?" Hermione asked.

Ron hit his forehead. He ran back up the stairs, and came back down again, quickly, with the map in his hand. He unrolled it between them, and tapped it with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The map came into focus, and words appeared along the edge. "A little early, isn't it, Weasley?"

"The map is acting familiar with you," Hermione commented dryly. "What do you suppose it means?"

"I'm not sure," Ron said. He was staring at the map. His face was red, even more so than usual. "Look," he said, "There's Harry!" He was pointing to a spot near Myrtle's washroom.

"That's odd," Hermione said. "I wonder what he's doing there?"

"Maybe he's trying to wish Myrtle a happy Christmas?" Ron suggested weakly.

"I don't think so," Hermione replied. "There could be something there. Let's go find him."

Ron nodded. They left quickly. The Fat Lady called from behind them, "Merry Christmas to you, too!" She sounded cross.

Ron slowed down, as if to turn around and tell her what was going on, but Hermione grabbed his hand. "Come on," she said, "we can apologize later."

They ran down to Myrtle's washroom. Harry was standing outside, his eyes shut, with Professor Snape standing in front of him. Snape was frowning, his head tilted, with his open palm on Harry's chest holding him in place. Snape looked up at Hermione as she ran down the stairs.

"Would you like to tell me what this is about?" Snape asked nasally.

"We're not really sure, Professor," Hermione said.

Snape sniffed, "Of course not." He looked keenly at Harry, appraising him. "It looks like someone hasn't been practicing his Occulumancy. I would have expected better."

"But he has!" Ron snapped, "Every night. At least, every night that I'm there when he's going to sleep, he practices. He even meets with Dumbledore twice a week to review."

"Really?" Snape's tone was mocking. "Then how do you explain this?"

"We can't," Hermione said. "Can't you snap him out of it?"

Harry was still trying to walk against Snape's hand, although the Professor was having little trouble holding him back. Professor Snape frowned, "I'm not sure," he said. "I've never seen someone this deeply entranced, without the Imperious curse being involved."

"It can't be Imperious, can it?" Hermione asked. "Harry's always been good at throwing it off."

"True, Miss Granger, he has," Snape agreed, grudgingly, "but only when he knew he was being subjected to it. I don't think this is Imperious, though."

"What do you think it is, then?" she asked.

"Something I've never seen before," he said, with some finality. "I will have to consult with Dumbledore on this."

"You can't leave him like this!" Hermione said, anguished. "What if he tries to hurt himself."

Professor Snape pulled his wand out with his off-hand, and waved it at Harry. "Petrificus Totalus!" he called. Harry fell to the ground, paralyzed.

"He should be fine, for some time," Snape said, smiling.

"Harry!" Hermione said, rushing to his side.

Ron put his hand on her shoulder. "He'll be all right, Hermione. He's not going anywhere. It's not like we haven't knocked out other people before, and they've always been all right."

"Yes," Snape said, frowning at this unpleasant reminder of Hermione's third year, "we have."

Harry was doing fine later when he returned to the dormitory from the hospital ward. He actually looked more well rested than normal. "Snape told me what happened last night," he said, "but he couldn't tell me why. Why do you think it's happening, Hermione?"

"Why are you asking me?" Hermione asked. She felt put on the spot. She didn't know everything, although she might not often admit that.

"Hermione," Ron chided, "You know you're the only one who can figure these things out. You figure out what the problem is, and Harry and I will do what we have to do."

"And I won't, is that what you're saying?" Hermione asked. She wasn't really angry, but she was irritated. "I think you're taking me for granted. I've risked my life a few times too, you know."

"I know," Harry said, "and I don't think Ron was saying anything otherwise. _Were you, Ron_?"

Ron shook his head, "No, of course not, Harry. Oh, bollocks, Hermione, you know I wouldn't mean anything like that. You're the bravest person I've ever known. Well, you and Harry, here."

"What about me?" Ginny popped up.

"You're Harry's problem, let him tell you how good you are," Ron said. He looked at Hermione, ignoring his sister's fuming. "So, _do_ you have any ideas about what's going on here?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione said hesitantly, "but I think You-Know-Who's found a way to get to Harry again."

"But what does he want?" Ron said. "If he could make Harry do what he wants, why doesn't he make him go down to the Three Broomsticks and do a table dance?"

Ginny chuckled, "Why, Ron, what an excellent idea. I had no clue that was what you wanted from Harry."

"Stuff it," Ron said succinctly. "You know what I mean. If you could control your worst enemy, why would you try to make him go to the ladies room? It doesn't make sense."

"Maybe it has something to do with memory," Harry said. "I remembered, before, when we were going down to the Chamber. It was like I was reliving it. Maybe he can't make me do things I haven't already done."

"That could be it," Hermione said. "It makes sense; it's much harder to get you to imagine doing anything that would cause you harm, then to get you to relive things."

"I still don't understand what he gets out of it," Ron said. He repeated, "It doesn't make any sense."

"I don't think we know enough yet, Ron," Hermione said. "But we know it's important that we keep an eye on Harry, and keep him in the dormitories at night."

"I can help with that," Ginny said, smiling. Harry blushed, and so did Hermione.

Ron scowled, "I'm sure we'll all need to give him a hand."

"That's exactly what I had in mind," Ginny promised.

Harry interjected, "Look, I don't think it will be a problem anyway. Snape is going to give me some late night Occlumancy lessons. Even if they don't work, I'll probably be too tired to sleepwalk."

Ginny pouted, "I think I would do a better job than he would at tiring you out."

"Probably," Harry admitted. "Look, let's not talk about it any more, all right? It probably won't happen again, anyway."

They walked down towards breakfast as a group. Hermione noticed Ron shooting the occasional glare at his sister and Harry, who were holding hands. The innuendo had been floating quite freely between their friends, and although Hermione didn't think they had been even half as naughty as they were letting on, it seemed that Ron was taking it at face value.

Hardly anyone had chosen to stay for the Yule break this year. Hogwarts was supposed to be a safe bastion against the Dark Lord, but Hunter's petrification had defeated that bit of common wisdom.

Strangely enough, Draco Malfoy was one of the people who had stayed. He was one of only four of the Slytherins remaining in the dungeons. Crabbe and Goyle had remained, his loyal bodyguards to the end, and so had Zabini.

It had long been obvious that Zabini had very little in common with Malfoy, but just how little they thought of each other was all the more clear with the rest of the Slytherins gone. Zabini and Malfoy sat at opposite ends of the table at meals, scores of empty seats between them.

None of the Slytherins had made public the reasons for their remaining at the school over the break. Ron had openly guessed that it was because Malfoy was failing classes, and needed the extra work, but Hermione doubted it.

There were more Gryffindors staying at the school, but still not many. Lavender was the only other girl in her room who had stayed. Neville was here, and so were the Creeveys, but few others.

The sound of the wind whistling outside made for a bleak breakfast. It was the counterpoint to the energy of the Arrival Feast at the school, when over a thousand students cheered to see each other, inside the warmth of the Great Hall. Now the Hall was almost silent, the clinking of silverware against plates clearly audible. Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione sat down as a group near the Creeveys, who were quieter than usual.

The Professors were all here, even though it was the break. Only Dumbledore looked cheerful. Professor McGonagall looked tired, her face drawn. Professor Snape was no more dour than normal, but no more cheerful. He was difficult to read, Hermione thought. He had been fair and open-handed lately, even if he still wasn't very nice.

Professor Delaceour was there for breakfast as well, which surprised Hermione. She looked tired, which given her ordeal, was to be expected. Since she was only teaching part-time, she wasn't always at Hogwarts for meals, often eating in London with friends from Gringott's. Hermione suspected that a certain long-haired Weasley featured prominently with those friends, although she wasn't certain.

"Why do you think Fleur is here?" Hermione whispered to Ginny. "She doesn't need to stick around for the holidays."

"Bill said that Dumbledore thought she would be safer here," Ginny said.

"Does Bill talk about her often?" Hermione asked.

"Not much," Ginny said, "I have to tease him in my letters for him to respond at all. Which reminds me, what's eating you?"

"Nothing new," Hermione responded. She flicked her eyes at Ron, and Ginny smirked.

"I heard there was some excitement at the Prefect's meeting," Ginny said, "I mean, before Ron showed up late. Anything interesting?" Ginny was showing a talent for changing the topic at the perfect time.

"I guess I should have told you earlier," Hermione said, "it was about Alvin Lyesmith."

Ginny's eyes flicked over to him. Alvin was sitting alone at the Ravenclaw table, picking at his food. "What about him? He's not a Death Eater, is he?" She looked almost hopeful.

"Not as far as I know," Hermione said dryly. "He got in trouble," she said, and quickly explained. "They were concerned that there would be too much in the way of rumor about it. No one's really talking about it though. I think the Professors over-reacted."

"I guess they didn't plan on Hunter getting stoned. If it hadn't been for that, Alvin probably would have been the talk of the school."

"I suppose so," Hermione agreed. Alvin Lyesmith got up from breakfast, leaving a full plate behind. He was staring at his shoes as he shuffled out of the room.

A few of the exchange students filtered in. They more than doubled the population of the Slytherin table. "I'd almost forgotten about them," Ginny said. "You don't think one of them did it, do you?"

Hermione shook her head. "The only one that I'd be concerned about is Roodsill, the Swedish student from Durmstrang. The rest all had alibis. He went home for the holidays, though."

"You already checked?" Ginny sounded impressed.

"There's not much else for me to do," Hermione said. "We still haven't found the pattern in this whole mess. Harry's dreams, Fleur's attacks, and Hunter's stoning, they have to all fit together, but I haven't figured out how, yet."

"Are you sure it all ties together?" Ginny asked. "Just asking, but it does seem kind of random."

Hermione hadn't thought of that. "If that's the case... I don't know if that's better or worse. Imagine, three separate threads going on."

"Well, they might not all be about Harry," Ginny said. "Someone might just have really hated Hunter. Or it could have been an accident."

"It could have," Hermione said. She looked over at Ron and Harry. They were talking loudly about Quidditch, and didn't seem to have heard a thing that the girls were saying. She whispered anyway, "I don't think so, though. You know where Harry was, the other night."

Ginny nodded. Then she looked horrified, "You don't think that thing is still down there, do you? Harry killed it, I saw the body."

"I know," Hermione said, "but don't you think it's odd that Harry was trying to get to the place where the Basilisk was, just before someone turned to stone?"

Ron stopped talking abruptly, and turned to face Hermione, a horror-struck look on his face. He hadn't appeared to have been listening at all, but he must have heard something. Harry just looked confused, though. "Ron, are you all right," he said.

"Sure, I'm fine," Ron said. "Just thought of something I wish I hadn't. It's nothing," he continued, smiling weakly.

Ginny, apparently confirming her new role in life, changed the subject. "Hullo," she said, "what's going on over there?"

Zabini was talking avidly to a young woman from Beaubatons. He seemed totally unaware that Crabbe had positioned himself behind Zabini with a tray filled with large pitchers of pumpkin juice. Crabbe loudly said, "Oops!" The tray fell to the ground, the pitchers soon after. The juice, however, ended up mostly on Zabini.

"Oh, dear," Hermione said.

"This should be fun," Ron smiled.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"I'm just waiting to see what Zabini does back to him," Ron said. He was staring intensely as Zabini.

Crabbe was back at Malfoy's side, with Goyle on the other. "Be careful, Zabini," Malfoy sneered, his voice carrying through the empty hall. "You're too young to wind up with a drinking problem. You might end up drunk and married to a Muggle, by mistake."

The Professors had noticed what was going on by now. Professor Valek had stood up, and she was walking purposefully towards the students. Malfoy's back was towards her, though, and he hadn't seen her yet.

Zabini folded his hands. His face was ash-white, and he was almost shaking. "Malfoy, if you have something to say about my family, just say it. I promise, like everyone else at Hogwarts, I won't be shy about returning the favor."

Malfoy sneered, "My family is worth ten of yours, Zabini, even without your uncle."

Hermione noticed that Zabini's hands had strayed up into the opposing sleeves of his robes. He was obviously spitting angry, and Hermione was surprised he hadn't reached for his wand pocket. Then she saw something move in his sleeve; he was reaching for something else, she realized.

Professor Valek cleared her throat loudly, from behind Malfoy. "Mister Malfoy, is there a problem?"

Zabini visibly relaxed, although he didn't look any happier. The look on his face was one of violent anger.

Ron almost looked disappointed, as Valek led Malfoy and his goons away from the table, and Blaise cleaned himself off with a spell. "What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"I was hoping to see Blaise wipe the floor with him," Ron said.

"Really?" Hermione asked, "You think Zabini could take on Crabbe and Goyle, too? Do you know something I don't know?"

Ron shrugged, "That's not likely, is it?" He smiled guardedly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing," Ron said. He looked at Ginny. "What were you talking about earlier?"

"Oh, we were just talking about Lyesmith," she said. "Hermione was saying that he'd gotten in trouble just before Hunter got turned into marble."

"He's not marble," Hermione said, "he's not shiny enough. He looked more like granite."

"Well, he's gray and white," Ginny said, "I'm a witch, not a geologist. We were talking about Lyesmith, though. What happened to him?"

Neville leaned over from nearby, "I only heard about what happened to his mother. What happened now?"

Hermione spoke quickly, giving them the short version of the fight that Alvin Lyesmith had been involved with. They seemed as unimpressed by his punishment as she was, and she found herself trying to defend Dumbledore's decision. "Look, if the Headmaster thinks he's not going to do anything worse, that should be enough for us. He's probably in a rough spot. Neville, you said that you had heard something about his mother. Do you know anything helpful? I only know that she passed on."

"I saw him at St. Mungo's last summer," Neville said. "His mother was brought there after she jumped."

"Jumped?" Hermione asked.

Neville nodded. "Off the tower of London at sunset."

"That's what Dad was talking about," Ron said.

Hermione looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"He had to work late one day this summer, he said that someone had fallen off the Tower after having flown up there on a broom during the night. They had to memory charm almost a dozen Muggles. It stayed out of the papers, though, and it didn't seem to have anything to do with He Who Must Not Be Named."

"Why did she jump? Could it have been an accident?" Hermione asked Neville.

He shrugged, "She had left a note for Alvin, but I never saw it. I don't know what happened. She was alive when they brought her to St. Mungo's, but she never woke up."

"That's awful," Hermione said. "I can't imagine that, leaving a child behind like that."

"Me, either. At least she left him a note," Harry said. His eyes were focused on his hands, which he'd formed into fists.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said softly. She put her arm on his shoulders.

They left the table together and headed for the library. Hermione realized as they left that she had let Ginny change the subject on her; she had lost track of her questions to Ron about Zabini. It probably didn't matter, though. While Hermione had visualized a number of different reasons for Ron to be out without telling her, she had trouble figuring out how Zabini could fit into them.

A thought occurred to her as they left. She broke off, and approached the teacher's table timidly, promising to meet the others later.

"Miss Granger, how good of you to stay here for the holidays," Professor McGonagall said. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I just had a question," she said, "could I speak to you later about it?"

"We can speak now," McGonagall said, smiling, "I was just finishing up." She stood, and walked out of the hall with Hermione. Professor Delaceour stood up as well. She looked shaky, but she walked straight ahead, outdistancing Hermione and McGonagall. She looked as if she were afraid that if she stopped, or slowed down, she might not be able to move again.

"What does your question concern?" Professor McGonagall asked Hermione. "Is it something we need to discuss in my office, or can we talk about it as we walk?"

"It's nothing too private," Hermione said, "it's about Alvin Lyesmith."

Professor McGonagall stopped, rolling her eyes. "I don't suppose that you're going to tell me that you think he's a Death Eater or some such. It's just about the time of year when I've come to expect hearing something like that from my favorite Gryffindors."

"No, it's nothing like that," Hermione said. "I just heard about his mother, from Neville. I assume you've heard about it?"

"Of course," Professor McGonagall said, "but we haven't wanted to spread it around. If Mister Lyesmith wants others to know about his situation, that's his business alone, not ours."

"I wondered," Hermione started out, and paused. She gathered her courage, "I initially thought he wasn't being punished enough. Hearing about what happened, though, I wondered if cutting him off from the library was a good idea."

"Really?" the corners of McGonagall's mouth twitched upwards. "I'm impressed, Miss Granger. Normally, it takes years for someone to progress from Head Girl to school management."

"I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall, I didn't mean to second guess you. He's isolating himself, though, and I don't think it will get any better if he does all his studying in his dormitory."

McGonagall sighed, "I do see your point, Miss Granger, but I'm afraid that Madam Pinch has spoken."

"I thought the punishment came from the Headmaster."

"Professor Dumbledore approved of not punishing him further. As it happens, he had the same concern as you just voiced, but Madam Pince was quite adamant on not allowing him back into her library."

"_Her_ library? Apparently, I'm not the only one who's overreaching her authority."

Professor McGonagall shook her head, smiling ruefully. "Miss Granger, when it comes to the library, you will find that very few people are willing to overrule Madam Pince."

"I see," Hermione said. "You learn something new every day."

"Quite," Professor McGonagall agreed. "Which reminds me, have you heard anything about a means of petrification which does not respond to application of processed Mandrake?"

"What?" Hermione asked. "No, not for actual petrification. Sometimes, I have heard of people being only apparently petrified, though. Why?"

"Hunter isn't changing back," McGonagall said. "We had hoped that he would return to normal before the Yule break was over, but we are finding ourselves at a loss. We have tried both ending general enchantments, as well as using Mandrake juice, and neither approach has worked."

"That doesn't make sense," Hermione bit at her lip, "unless he doesn't want to be changed back."

"That's an intriguing idea," Professor McGonagall said. "It's true, sense of self is important in reversing some types of transfigurations. If he is under an enchantment, rather than being purely petrified, then the Mandrake juice would be ineffective. In those cases, if he did not want to become flesh and blood again, it might make changing him back difficult. There's a problem, though. Why would a boy of that age not want to resume his life?"

Hermione bit back the first response that came to her head, "_Have you met Jalaja?_" Instead, she just shook her head. Nothing was forcing Hunter to be with Jalaja, and he had a whole life ahead of him. Assuming he was able to complete his schooling, he would have many options of how to spend his life, any one of which was probably better than becoming a permanent statue.

Professor McGonagall smiled, "Have you spoken to Miss Rao recently?" The same thought had obviously occurred to her, as well.

"No, I'm afraid she has been difficult to approach," Hermione said cautiously. She didn't like Jalaja, but she didn't see any reason to gossip about her with a Professor. She had Ginny for that. The truth was, though, that Jalaja was mainly hard to avoid. She was still in the library often, and if she no longer had Hunter to berate, that only made her complaints all the louder when they were aimed at other people.

"I see," Professor McGonagall said, smiling wider. Hermione wondered if she had heard the unspoken as well as the spoken comments. McGonagall was very good at reading between the lines, and she seemed to know only slightly less than Dumbledore at times. "Well, if you should see Miss Rao, perhaps you could ask her if she intends to visit Hunter. I understand that she hasn't been up to the Hospital Ward yet, and perhaps if she were to spend more time there, he would be properly incented to leave."

Hermione nodded, trying to keep a straight face. "I understand, Professor. We wouldn't want him to be confused about what he's missing."

"Exactly," she nodded. "Is there anything else?"

"About Mister Lyesmith," Hermione began again.

Professor McGonagall sighed. "You have my permission to spend time with him, if you think he's not getting enough human contact. I'm afraid that Madam Pince's ban will have to stand, though."

"Yes, Professor," Hermione nodded, realizing that arguing more would just end up volunteering herself to fix the problem. She'd spent far too little time on her NEWT studies lately to make Alvin Lyesmith her pet project.

"Did you hear something?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Hermione cocked her head, listening. She heard winter's winds blowing snow against the castle, and the faint sounds of people eating breakfast. "No, I'm sorry Professor, I don't hear anything unusual."

"There was something strange," Professor McGonagall said, "I'm not sure what it was, but it was more the absence of sound than its presence."

"Which way do you think it came from?" Hermione asked.

"Not towards the Great Hall. I think it was from that corridor," Professor McGonagall said, pointing. "Would you come with me to investigate? It probably isn't anything, but I would rather not leave it to chance."

"Of course," Hermione said, "I'll go with you." They walked quickly towards the side corridor. Hermione shivered as she realized where they were going. "Professor, this is the way to Professor Delaceour's quarters. You don't think there was another attack, do you?"

"Perish the thought," McGonagall said, but she began to move more quickly. She was almost running, and Hermione was beginning to jog in order to keep up. McGonagall's long, graceful strides covered more ground than Hermione's less gracefull lope.

As McGonagall and Hermione rushed down the hall, they heard the sounds of struggling coming from Professor Delaceour's quarters. Before they reached the door, someone wearing a black, hooded cloak, came running out of the room, little blue fireballs nipping at his heels. Professor McGonagall waved her wand at the hooded figure, "_Petrificus Totalus_" She missed, though, and only managed to paralyze a surprised mouse that was scurrying across the hallway.

"Check on Fleur," McGonagall commanded, as she pursued the cloaked figure. She flicked her wand, swishing it twice, as she invoked a nasty transfiguration spell. Hermione entered Professor Delaceour's room.

She gasped as she came in. Fleur lay on the floor, unconscious. There was a nasty bruise on her forehead, and a gash on her cheek that was bleeding freely. She wasn't alone, however. A Slytherin girl was bending over Professor Delaceour; the same girl who had been on the Hogwarts Express and at the Gryffindor dormitory.

The Slytherin looked impatient. She was pointing her wand at the gash on Fleur's cheek, invoking a binding charm to draw the skin back together, but it wasn't working well.

"Let me help," Hermione said, quickly joining her. She pointed her wand at the bruise first. "This might be more severe," she said, "even if it doesn't look it."

The Slytherin nodded. She stepped back, watching as Hermione tried to work her own skill at healing the Professor. Hermione was curious as to what the girl was doing here, but she couldn't spare her any attention just now. She was focused only on the Professor, and she was rewarded by seeing the bruise begin to shrink. It might have been her imagination, but she thought she heard a difference in Fleur's breathing. It seemed to become more regular.

Footsteps were pounding in the hallway, now, and Hermione looked up to see Professors Snape and McGonagall both at the door. McGonagall's lips were drawn together, her eyes angry. Snape looked no less happy.

"How is she?" McGonagall asked.

"She's alive," Hermione said, "but she's still bleeding. I was working on the injury to her forehead."

"She should have been brought to Madam Pomfrey at once," Snape said.

"You couldn't expect her to bring Professor Delaceour by herself," McGonagall countered, "nor could she have left the Professor here alone."

"I should have left her with the Slytherin," Hermione said, turning around, but she saw that the girl was gone. She wasn't sure whether or not to be surprised by this. It would have been far too convenient for her to still be here.

"Which Slytherin?" Snape asked. "Are you certain that you didn't sustain any head injuries of your own? Your hair might be hiding something."

"Professor Snape," McGonagall chided, "that is uncalled for. Hermione, was there someone else here?"

"Yes, there was a girl," Hermione said, "I've seen her a few times, but she's a mystery."

"Whatever the mystery may be, it can wait," Snape said acerbicly. He stepped forward, pulling a vial from his belt. He poured it out on top of Fleur, and her breathing seemed to stop.

Hermione cried out, "What are you doing?"

Snape sniffed, "Miss Granger, use your head, if it is indeed still intact. What do you smell?"

Hermione obliged, "Well, first, there's something rather like motor oil."

Snape seemed to blush, although in his case, it was barely noticeable. He self-consciously ran a finger along the outside of his hair. He probably couldn't run his fingers through it, she thought, not that she could point fingers. "What else do you smell?"

"It smells like essence of Thyme," she said, "and possibly a hint of Saffron."

"Excellent," he said, "and what does that tell you?"

Hermione looked closely at Fleur's chest. She could see it rising, very, very slowly. "You've slowed her down," she said.

Snape nodded. "Five points to Gryffindor," he said. "This is a very useful potion to have at hand," he said, "especially with a madman attacking our Professors."

"Then you didn't catch him?" Hermione asked, looking at McGonagall. The Deputy Headsmistress shook her head.

"He went around a corner, and vanished in a puff of smoke. It smelled like catnip," McGonagall said. "I couldn't move through it."

"I know the potion," Snape said, "it's designed to stop Animagi. He must have known that you would be pursuing him." He stepped back, and levitated the Professor into the air.

"Cat's Cradle Snare?" Hermione asked.

"That's correct," Snape paused, looking back at her critically. "How would you know about that potion?"

Hermione didn't want to admit that she had seen the recipe in Most Potente Potions. Snape knew that she had checked it out, but she didn't want to remind him of the book, if she could help it.

Professor Valek stepped into the door, clearing her throat as she stepped around Professor Delaceour. "I may have mentioned it in my class," she said. "I wanted to impress on our students how important it is to understand Potions, instead of just focusing on charms and curses, as many are wont to do." Hermione was certain that she hadn't heard Valek mention anything of the kind, but she was thankful for the rescue.

Snape nodded his head, but he didn't look convinced. "Thank you for your concern, Professor Valek. You might want to be careful, however, in mentioning restricted Potions to the class. I have found that many of them find such things to be a challenge to their ability to figure out how to use them." He glared at Hermione now, and she was sure that he had not forgotten the book. "You made it here very quickly. Did someone tell you of the incident?"

"I didn't make it here quickly at all," Valek denied. "My quarters are across the hall. I was in the shower, and I hadn't heard anything until you got here."

"Really," Snape said. He looked ready to argue with her, but shook his head. "The potion will not last forever," he said, "I will bring the Professor to the Hospital Ward. Will you please come with me, Miss Granger? I'm certain that our Dark Arts Professor will wish to investigate the crime scene."

"Certainly," Hermione said, although she didn't think it was truly a request. Snape didn't give requests to mere students. He gave commands.

Professor Snape spoke, as they walked. "Miss Granger, there was a time when the Yule holidays were, in fact, holidays, free of sleep-walking students, bleeding Professors, mysterious curses, and bellicose ghosts. Do you believe that?"

"At Hogwarts?" Hermione said.

Professor Snape snorted, "Yes, although things have indeed been exciting here during your tenure, there were in the past times when things could have been said to have been peaceful."

Hermione thought for a moment, "Mysterious curses?"

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow, although he kept walking. "You hadn't heard? I'm surprised, Miss Granger. I was expecting to find that you were already well aware of this particular mystery."

"Not in the slightest," Hermione said, mystified. "What has happened now?"

"I'm afraid that Mister Malfoy is suffering from a curse," Professor Snape said, shaking his head sadly, "along with Misters Crabbe and Goyle."

"What happened to them?" Hermione asked. "Are they all right?"

"They will be," Professor Snape said. "While it took some time to research the spell, given its Oriental origins, we believe that it will wear off within the next twenty-four hours. As to the curse's results, I'm afraid that you will have to see for yourself. They should still be in the Hospital Ward."

They turned a corner into the Hospital Ward, and Professor Snape levitated the Professor towards an empty bed. Madam Pomfrey let out a cry, "Not again," she said. She quickly began to minister to the Professor, ignoring Hermione and Professor Snape. The Professor nodded his head away from the hospital bed, and Hermione followed his gaze.

An area in the back of the ward was walled off by movable screens, but from the other side, Hermione could here a repeated sound. It sounded like someone was saying "BONK!" repeatedly. She also heard a terrible wailing. Hesitantly, Hermione walked up to the screens on tip-toes. She looked through a gap, and could not help gasping as she saw what had happened to her least favorite Slytherins.

They were short, all of them, only three feet tall. They had all grown wider, and Crabbe and Goyle, who were repeatedly hitting each other on the head with clenched, three-fingered, fists, were far wider than they were tall. Malfoy sat on the edge of a bed, and what appeared to be gallons of tears were spraying from his face as he wailed. Each time Crabbe or Goyle's fist landed on the other, a loud "BONK!" would sound.

Professor Snape whispered from behind Hermione, and she jumped an inch in the air. "The Chibi curse," he said, "one of the most dreaded of those of the Orient. You truly had nothing to do with this?"

Hermione shook her head, "I would never do this to another student," she said. "I can't think of anyone who would," she continued. She left her thought unsaid, _now that Fred and George have left_. Snape probably had the same thought.

"I wonder, would you know of anything that might have escaped my hearing lately, any offense that might have been perceived by Mister or Miss Weasley?"

Hermione shook her head, "Not that I've heard. I can ask them, though. I can't imagine either of them doing this," she said, although she meant, _without telling me._

"Please do ask them, Miss Granger," Professor Snape said. "I've heard that recipients of the Chibi curse are never quite the same, and I would very much like to know what Mister Malfoy might have done that would have deserved this."

"So would I," Hermione said. She left then, as Madam Pomfrey continued to work on Professor Delaceour. Professor Snape stood by the door, a weary guard watching the passage for dark-cloaked intruders.

Going down the stairs, Hermione saw Harry coming up. His brow was furrowed, and he was looking down. "What's wrong?" Hermione asked, stopping in the middle of the staircase.

"I heard a few of the exchange students talking," he said. "I think they overheard Ron's suggestion in the Hall or something. They think I lied about killing the Basilisk, that it was all just a story I made up. I thought I was past that."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said sadly. "Some people just can't stop doubting their heroes."

"I'm no hero, Hermione," Harry said quietly. "I've just done what had to be done. I didn't do things because I wanted people to like me. I did what I did because people I liked would have suffered if I hadn't."

"I know that, Harry," Hermione said. "Not everyone does, though. To most people, even most of the students here, you're someone they know from books and magazines, or from the skies during a Quidditch match. That Harry Potter doesn't seem quite human. They want you to have faults, Harry, not because they don't like you, but because they wish you weren't better than them."

"I'm not," Harry said. "If it weren't for an accident of birth, Voldemort would never have taken note of me at all. If he'd gone after Neville instead, I would probably be just another awkward student. I might not have even been in Gryffindor. I don't want to be better than them, but I don't want them to think I'm a liar, either."

"What do they think happened in the Chamber, then, if you didn't kill the Basilisk?"

"I don't think everyone agrees on that," Harry said. "I've heard a few people say that there was another Basilisk, that the one I killed was probably just a baby.".

"A baby?" Hermione was astonished. "Honestly, doesn't anyone read anymore? Basilisks don't breed. You need to have an ensorcelled rooster and a toad to create one, and the spells are long since lost. It takes years for one to grow to the point where it's a danger. Salazar Slytherin died almost a thousand years ago, and the chamber was only opened once since then."

Harry suddenly looked alarmed. "What if they're right?" he said. "Voldemort was in the chamber fifty years ago. What if he created another Basilisk?"

"I don't think he could cast the spells, Harry. They aren't well known any more. Even if he could, the Basilisk that attacked me was no child. It was far too large."

"That's right, you saw it," Harry relaxed with relief. Then his eyes widened, "That doesn't mean there wasn't a child, though. There could be one now! That could be what petrified Hunter."

"I don't think so," Hermione said. "If Hunter had been petrified by a Basilisk, then Mandrake Juice would have worked." She realized after she had said it, that she shouldn't be discussing this in public. No one else was on the stairway, and with the holidays, there were few even in the school. However, that also meant that even whispers echoed through the stairwell, without the noise of other students to silence them. She frowned, "I don't think we should talk about this any more, at least not here."

Harry nodded, "Maybe later, after dinner?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Hermione said. "Back in the common room. But Harry, don't worry. Your friends all know who you are, and we know that you're telling the truth."

"She's right, Harry," a nasal voice said from beneath them. Moaning Myrtle rose up, through the floor. Myrtle cocked her head sideways, smiling, her translucent ponytails flopping behind her. "I know you told the truth, and none of your friends would doubt it."

"Erm, thanks, Myrtle," Harry said. He didn't look reassured by Myrtle's statement, but it got him moving again. "I'll see you both later. I should get back up to the dormitory."

He beat a hasty retreat from Myrtle. She watched him go, but swiftly turned to Hermione as she started to walk off. Myrtle folded her arms, and stuck her lower lip out. "You!" Myrtle said, looking very cross.

"Yes, Myrtle? Is there something wrong?"

"I would say so," Myrtle said. "You told Valek about my friend visiting."

Hermione was confused. "What? I don't know what you're talking about."

Myrtle floated closer, "Neville!" she whispered, almost hissing. "You told her about Neville, and now he can't visit me any more."

Hermione shook her head, "I'm sorry, Myrtle, but I didn't say anything about Neville to anyone. I wouldn't do that to a friend." She meant Neville more than Myrtle, but it was still true.

"Hmph!" Myrtle said, crossing her arms. "I don't believe you. Always meddling, that's what you do, you and the others. I don't think any of you really care about me!" Myrtle's started to shriek, her voice building to a load crescendo. Hermione felt the stairs shaking beneath her.

"I care, Myrtle," Hermione said. Heights made her stomach queasy. The stairs were normally acceptable, but the way they shook now was making her airsick. "I really do. Please, calm down, and we can talk about this. What did Professor Valek say?"

"What did she say?" Myrtle whined. "She said that he couldn't come and visit me anymore. She said she was going to ward my washroom, so that no one else would visit, either."

"That's a shame, Myrtle," Hermione said, although she privately thought otherwise. She often felt guilty for not visiting Myrtle, and having a good excuse, like a ward across the doorway, would take that obligation from her.

"I know what you're thinking," Myrtle pouted. "Even my own flesh and blood won't visit me, not that I have any flesh anymore," she said. She was working herself into a fit.

"Myrtle, I have an idea," Hermione said. "Why don't we go there now, and I can visit. If she hasn't put the wards up yet, that is."

Myrtle brightened up quickly. She clasped her spectral hands in front of her. "Ooh!" she squealed, "that would be wonderful!"

"I'll be right down, Myrtle," Hermione said. Suggesting a visit was the last thing she wanted to do right now, but the stairs were shaking with Myrtle's displeasure, and Hermione was close to losing her dinner over the side of the rail. Sure, very few students were around, but she wasn't sure her reputation could take an incident of that magnitude.

Hermione was sitting with her back to the door of the Common Room. Ron had been so upset the last time she had met him coming back in, she decided it was better not to even look like she was watching. A book lay in front of her, but she couldn't focus on reading it.

Ron kept saying he wasn't hiding anything. He also kept evading her questions when she asked him what he was doing. He seemed to think her concern was unnatural, and that she was nagging him. She didn't know what to think -- she thought that friends could tell each other where they were spending their time, especially friends as close as her and Ron had become.

The door opened behind her, and she smelled the scent of jasmine. "Ron," she said, turning around, "one of these days you're going to have to tell me why you always smell like..." She stopped, her mouth agape. Lavender Brown stood stock still, looking at her. She had a horrified look on her face.

"Hi," Lavender waved, weakly. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"It was you, wasn't it. You're the reason why he comes in smelling like a garden. You've been seeing him all this time."

"Let me explain, Granger, it's not what you think," Lavender started to backpeddle.

"I'm not going to buy it this time, Brown, and don't you 'Granger' me," Hermione snapped back at her. "We've already talked about this, haven't we?"

"Umm, we have?" Lavender said hesitantly. Her voice sounded strange, like she had a faint accent. Hermione barely noticed that, though.

"Right," Hermione replied. "If Ron wants to be with you, then that's his business. You can't expect me to put up with it, though. Get out of my sight."

Lavender nodded her head, looking more fearful than upset, and ran towards the dormitories. She came back down a few minutes later, holding a bag in her hands, and left without a word to Hermione. Hermione didn't notice, though. She was too busy hiding her face in her hands.

------------------------

Authors Note:

Put the wand down, right now, and read the next chapter, which will be posted within the next few hours.

My apologies for how long it's taken for this to materialize. I've had two major distractions lately - my hours at work have increased dramatically, and my wife is expecting twins. I've been told that I can't name them Fred and George.


	9. I Gave You My Heart

**Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor**

**Chapter Nine - I Gave You My Heart**

> "A wizard cannot do everything; a fact most magicians are reticent to admit, let alone discuss with prospective clients. Still, the fact remains that there are certain objects and people, that are, for one reason or another, completely immune to any direct magical spell. It is for this group of beings that the magician learns the subtleties of using indirect spells. It also does no harm, in dealing with these matters, to carry a large club near your person at all times." -- The Teachings of Ebenezum, Volume VIII (Craig Shaw Gardner, The Exploits of Ebenezum)

Hermione had volunteered to help guard Fleur in the evenings, since Ron was always "busy." What he was busy with, he still hadn't volunteered. She hadn't talked with him at all since discovering Lavender's secret, and if he had noticed how cool she was acting towards him, he hadn't said anything. Harry had asked more than once if something was wrong, but she couldn't tell him. She was afraid that he might already know.

Hermione had long felt jealous of Ron's attention to Lavender, and she had long wondered what Ron had been doing, but she hadn't actually believed that the two were linked. Even now, she had trouble believing it. The heart of the matter was that she trusted Ron, totally, completely, implicitly. She still trusted him, even when she knew he didn't deserve it.

Would Harry have covered for Ron, if he was busy with Lavender? If Ron was actually capable of doing those sorts of things, then Hermione couldn't trust her judgement about Harry, either.

Guarding Fleur was challenging. She wasn't travelling right now, as she had decided that she was safer staying in one place. In Hermione's mind, that made her an easy target, if not for the mysterious assassin, then for the dozens of prepubescent boys who were always trying to spend time with the Professor. Each knock on the door, each footstep in the hall, made Hermione jump, wand at the ready. Once, she was sure she heard the assassin's soft footsteps pacing outside in the corridor, but it was just a Ravenclaw first year with a hastily written assignment.

There was a timid knock on the door once again. Hermione jumped to her feet, her wand at the ready. Fleur, who was sitting on a sumptuously overstuffed chair, stifled a girlish giggle that sounded like the tinkling of bells. Hermione was coming to hate that laugh, and not just because it was directed at her. She knew that Ron was chasing someone besides Fleur now, so she had no reason for jealousy, but she still felt inferior when she was so close to someone who was so perfect.

"I'll get it," Hermione said.

"But of course," Fleur answered, smothering a grin. If Hermione's protection was doing little good for Fleur's body, she thought, at least it seemed to be doing wonders for her sense of humor.

Hermione flung the door open. Neville stood there, his mouth open, arm raised. "Well, what is it?" Hermione snapped.

Neville fell forward, his arm still up in the air. "_Stupefy_," a muffled voice said from behind him, and a flash erupted from a wand in the hand of a hooded figure. Hermione fell down. She fought the spell, tried to keep herself conscious, but she only partly succeeded. She felt as if she had been knocked into a dream, barely seeing what happened next through heavy lids.

The attacker petrified Fleur before she could get her wand out, then levitated her out the door. Then Fleur's body started to fall towards the floor, and there were another set of flashes from the hall. Hermione had trouble focusing, but she saw a tall man in the hallway pull off an invisibility cloak, and she could see the flashes from his wand, although she could not count them. The sound of footsteps in the hall, ringing as the assailant ran away, testified that Ron hadn't been able to stop him.

Ron saw Hermione through the door, and shouted. "Hermione? Are you all right?" He ran to her side, and knelt. "Please, talk to me."

She wanted to talk to him. She wanted to shout at him, to ask him why he had betrayed her. She wanted to ask him why he had been in the hallway under Harry's cloak. She especially wanted to ask the twit to stop talking to her as if she were dead, and use Ennervate on her.

He read at least the last message in her eyes, which, although they were mostly hidden behind her eyelids, kept insistently focusing on his wand. "I'm sorry," he said suddenly, and he pointed the wand at her. "_Ennervate_," he said.

She sat up, sputtering, as she blinked the sleep out of her eyes. "About bloody time," she swore at him. She pointed her wand at Neville, who was still lying paralyzed on the ground, completely stiff, balanced on his knocking left hand. "_Finite Incantatum!_" she said, firmly, and Neville's arm suddenly relaxed. He landed on his nose as his face fell the last foot to the floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, quickly helping him up with her free hand.

"Dats all right," Neville said, rubbing his nose. "Ib going to be fine. What about duh Professor?"

Hermione made out his meaning with difficulty, and she nodded, swinging her wand towards Fleur. This time, she flipped the Professor on her back, first, since she, too, was balanced on an arm. Then she freed the Professor from the spell.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," Fleur said breathlessly, "zat could have been ze end!"

"It wasn't just me," Hermione said, although she didn't want to give the git any credit. "Weasley helped out, too."

"My hero!" Fleur said, throwing her arms around Ron, and kissing him on his cheek. Ron at least had the good grace to look embarrassed.

Hermione made a small gagging noise, and then spoke up. "I'll go get Headmaster Dumbledore." She took a step forward, and almost fell down. Neville put a hand on her arm.

"No, wait," Neville said. "I'll go. You stay here."

"You were hurt, too," she protested.

"I'm used to it," Neville smiled. "It's not like I've never been paralyzed before." He walked down the corridor, his wand out.

"Do you think he'll be okay alone?" Hermione asked, worried.

"I hope so," Ron said. "It doesn't seem like the attacker, whoever it is, is after anyone but Fleur."

"Zat doesn't make any zense!" Fleur exclaimed. "Why would anyone be after me?"

"It has to be He Who Must Not Be Named," Ron said.

"What would he have to do wit me?" Fleur asked. "I have never done anyzing to him. I thought he was only after Harry."

"She's right, Ron," Hermione said, mostly because she didn't want to agree with anything Ron said right now. "Why would He be after her?"

"He doesn't like anyone who's not a Pureblood," Ron said. "Maybe he's after her because she's part Veela."

Fleur pursed her lips, "Do you ztill have a problem with that, Mister Weasley? I thought that you would not hold that against me."

"I don't," Ron said, "but I'm not You Know Who, either. Who else could it be?"

"I don't know," Hermione said.

"I don't know which would be worse," Fleur said, shaking her head, "to believe that He Who Must Not Be Named would want me dead, or to think that there might be a lunatic here that has nothing to do with him."

Footsteps in the hallway announced the arrival of the rest of the Faculty. The slow, steady footsteps of Professor Snape. The swift, graceful walk of Professor McGonagall. Ron looked relieved. "We should be safe now," he said. He walked over to Hermione, and put an arm around her shoulders protectively.

She shrugged his arm off. "Safe? For how long?"

"Forever," Ron said, "I'll always protect you."

"Brilliant," she spat at him, as she turned and left the room. The Professors didn't stop her, although she could feel Professor McGonagall's interested gaze on her as she walked away.

She didn't stop walking until she got to the library. Madam Pince clucked at her as she walked in, "We're closing soon, Miss Granger."

"I know," Hermione whispered back. "I'm only here to find a few books on something. I'll be out in a few minutes."

She walked towards unfamiliar aisles. Madam Pince approached her from behind, clucking as she came. "Perhaps, if you told me what you were looking for, I could help?"

"Power," Hermione said, as she pulled books off the shelf. "I'm looking for power." She had already decided that she couldn't depend on Ron to love her. She sure wasn't going to depend on him to protect her.

..

Lavender mumbled, "Good night," to Hermione, as she entered the common room on her way up to the dormitory. Her eyes looked red, and she looked exhausted.

"Stuff it!" Hermione snapped. She looked down at her book, "Theories on Wandless Magic." She was looking for something that she'd only heard hints about, something that might give her a way to protect herself.

"Why are you acting like this?" Lavender asked Hermione. Hermione looked back at her, amazed at Lavender's ability to forget the scene from two weeks back.

"If you mean how did I find out, it was simple deduction. When you and Ron were both away from the dormitory the other night, you came back smelling like jasmine, like he has the last several times he's come back from his secret trips around the castle."

"Jasmine? Are you loony?"

"I know what I smelled," Hermione said. "I thought we were clear after our talk."

"You're out of your skull," Lavender said, "I don't like jasmine. The last time I tried some perfume made from it, I had to go to St. Mungo's with an allergic reaction. That was years ago, though. I threw out the rest of it. You can ask Pomfrey, if you like, since you obviously don't trust me." Lavender turned and walked away, shaking with anger.

Hermione stared at her back. She could understand Lavender denying having seen Ron behind her back, but Lavender was as upset at her having thought that she wore jasmine. That didn't make much sense. But, this being Hogwarts, things that didn't make sense weren't anything new.

The Fat Lady's painting opened. There was no one there. Hermione crossed her arms. "We're going to talk. Now."

Ron pulled off Harry's invisibility cloak. He had a bruise on his cheek, and when he lifted his arm, Hermione could see it was bandaged inside his cloak. "All right," Ron said, forcing a smile, "I'm glad to see you, too."

"What happened?" Hermione asked, her anger taking second place to her concern, but not forgotten. "Tell me the whole story."

Ron shrugged, "I fell down."

Hermione shook her head. "Ron, if you don't want to tell me anything, that's your decision. I've reached an end, though. I can't keep wondering what you aren't telling me. I know something strange is going on."

"I promised I wouldn't say anything," Ron said. "She said she would get in trouble if anyone found out."

"Lavender?"

Ron looked at her for a second, and then burst out laughing. "Lavender? What does she have to do with this?"

"I'm not sure, Ron," Hermione said, her temper rising, "You haven't left me anything to do but guess."

"I'm sorry," Ron said. "It has nothing to do with Lavender, and nothing to do with... the way I feel about you."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. Ron continued, though. "I've been taking lessons, lessons in how to be an Auror."

"You told me about the Potions, before," Hermione said. "This doesn't look like the results of a Potions class, at least not one without Neville."

"It's not all potions," Ron said. "Some of it... it's more of what I learned last year."

"Is Professor Ding helping out again?" Hermione asked.

"No," Ron said. "This time, it's someone else."

"Who?" Hermione asked.

Ron exhaled, "I can't say." Hermione glared at him. "I can't," he said desperately. "I mean it. It's not safe for me to say anything. She told me I couldn't tell you, or Harry."

"Why not?" Hermione asked. "Does it seem like a good idea to be keeping secrets from your friends?"

Ron shook his head, "I didn't set out to do it. It was just going to be me and..." Ron trailed off abruptly.

"You and whom?" Hermione asked.

Ron cleared his throat. "Zabini and me. We talked at the end of last year, and he's had some martial arts training of his own. He and I were just planning on learning together."

"So, to review, you wouldn't tell me what you were doing, but you let a Slytherin know about it."

"Well, when you put it that way, of course it sounds bad," Ron protested. "It's not like Malfoy knew what we were doing."

"Very well then, you said it started out that way. How is it now?"

Ron shrugged, "Pretty much the same, but we're working with someone else. She knows all sorts of things about Auror training. She's not supposed to be telling us about yet, though."

"Yet?"

"Until we're accepted as real Auror trainees. She was afraid we wouldn't make it, though."

"Who was it, Ron?"

He opened his mouth, then shut it. He shook his head, sadly. "I can't tell you. I gave my word."

"You won't tell me?" Hermione asked.

"I can't," Ron said. "I'll ask her permission to tell you, but I can't say more without it." He looked anguished, his brow furrowed, eyes downcast. "Please, Hermione, understand, I gave my word. She's taking an awful risk to work with me."

"I understand," Hermione said, and she realized she did. Ron was doing something for himself, and he'd given his word as a man. If she made him break it, she would be taking something important away from him, and she would be showing distrust in his judgement. Even if it was warranted, which she privately thought might be the case, she didn't think Ron's fragile ego would handle her distrust well. "You'll tell me what you can, when you can. Just don't lie to me. Not ever again. I want your word on that."

He nodded. He looked into her eyes, and held their gaze. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't think you would be so worried. I didn't think. It won't happen again, I promise. You have my word."

"I'll hold you to that," she said. Hermione leaned in, and put her arms around his waist. All felt right with the world again. For as long as it would last. Still, she wondered if she was just giving into her desire to feel safe and loved and protected, when she knew very well that Ron was still holding something back from her.


	10. Perchance to Dream

Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor

**Chapter Ten - Perchance to Dream**

No small art is it to sleep: it is necessary for that purpose to keep awake all day. -- Nietzsche 

Hermione was enjoying the beginning of January much more than the beginning of December. Ron was busy, but he was no longer sneaking around. She accepted that there were some mysteries he was keeping from her, but they seemed to be limited to the context of his strange teacher, and she had a few guesses about whom that might be.

Fleur hadn't been attacked since the night Hermione had been guarding her. Since then, Snape had insisted on having a pair of Slytherins outside her door to guard her at night. He pointed out that Blaise Zabini had been the only Slytherin both at Hogwarts and not already in the Hospital Ward at the time of the last attack, and, as such, any two people in the Slytherin house (other than Zabini) were at least as safe as those from other houses. Hermione saw several holes in his logic, not the least of which being the assumption that the attacker was acting alone, but she let it pass regardless. She didn't want to bring up the topic of Fleur's attack if she could help it.

Fortunately, Malfoy wasn't bringing up the event at all. He had been painfully aware of her seeing him under the Chibi curse, and he seemed unwilling to do anything that might make her mention Super-Deformed Malfoy.

With her hours freed from guard duty, Hermione was working on something far more interesting; studying for her NEWTs. Professor Snape had offered the sixth and seventh year students extended hours in the laboratory, so that they could extend their studies into the evenings. Hermione was one of the few that had taken him up on it, and she relished the quiet of the laboratory as a place to study in general.

Alvin Lyesmith was the only one there with her now. Like her, he studied more than just potions in the laboratory, although in his case, he had little other choice. The library was still off-limits to him.

Hermione realized that she was staring at Alvin, and forced herself to look away. He looked miserable, she realized. His jaw was set, as if he was angry with the world. He looked up at her as she looked away. "What?" he snapped at her.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "I wondered how you were doing, is all."

"Why should you care," Alvin said. "I thought you were too busy with your friends to notice me."

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely, "that wasn't my intention. I figured you wouldn't want me butting in."

Alvin blinked. "Thanks," he said, "I hadn't thought of it that way."

"I heard that you'd had some tough times recently," Hermione said, trying not to be too explicit. "Not that it's any of my business."

"It's all right," he said. "I'm doing better now."

"If you want to talk, I'm here."

"I appreciate that," Alvin said. "It's been hard getting by on my own. I don't think I have much to say, though."

Hermione nodded, but didn't say anything. She bit her tongue to stop from asking the question that was on her mind. Alvin said he was on his own, but she had only heard about his mother. What happened to his father?

"Well, I think I've done enough for today," Alvin said. He carefully put his potion in a magical storage box to keep it from getting spoiled or contaminated. "I'll see you later."

"Take care," Hermione said as he walked out.

"Finally," Harry's voice said out of nowhere. "About time he left."

Hermione jumped, jostling her potion. The caldron tipped, a few drops spilling out.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized, jumping forward to steady the caldron as he let his invisibility cloak fall to the ground.

"What are you doing here, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Is something wrong?"

He looked uncomfortable. "I wanted to say goodbye, Hermione. I thought you might come after me again if I didn't."

"Goodbye? Where are you going?"

"I don't think Voldemort's going to let me make it through school intact. The dreams have been getting worse lately."

"Harry, he's trying to make you crack. You can't let him get to you."

"I don't know what he wants Hermione, but I don't think I can stand it any longer."

"You have to, Harry. Have you talked to Dumbledore?"

"He's not talking to me," Harry said. "I think he's afraid of me again, afraid I'll let Voldemort know something. The only thing he's said to me all month is that it's not my time yet."

"He must know something, Harry. Have you tried talking to Snape?"

"He doesn't stop talking," Harry said, "he keeps finding excuses to bring me into Occulumancy lessons. I thought I was finished with him, but with Dumbledore now refusing to help out, I don't have any other choice. It isn't helping, though. That's why I have to go."

"You can't go," Hermione begged him. "Why are you so eager to go? Don't you realize what could happen?"

"I know," Harry said, "but I've faced him before. The worst he can do is kill me. Here, I don't know what he's making me do."

"Let me find out," Hermione said, "maybe I can figure out what he's trying to do."

"Do you think you can?" Harry said hopefully. "Honestly, Hermione, you're my only hope. Luna thinks she knows something, but I don't think it will help."

Hermione snorted, "What could Luna know?"

"Something about Voldemort," Harry said. "She says she's been researching some of the old library records of Tom's. It looks like he used to be into conspiracy theories."

"What do you mean?"

"He used to read the Quiddler, for one thing," Harry said. "But he also read a bunch of ancient history. She said he was reading up on Slytherin, that he'd even written a paper on Hermann, of all things."

"Hermann? Isn't that the son of Slytherin that she keeps going on about?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry nodded, "That's the one. I thought the whole thing was made up, but if Voldemort believed in it, then maybe it's not."

"I wouldn't count on He Who Must Not Be Named as the definitive source on what is or isn't crazy."

"That's true," Harry said. He looked like he was thinking. He nodded his head. "I'll give it another week, but I can't promise more than that. If you can come up with any ideas by then, maybe I won't have to face him head on. I don't think I can wait any longer."

Hermione felt pressured, but she didn't seem to have another option. "I'll do my best," she said. "Let's go back to the dormitory. It's getting late."

Harry nodded. "I have a question. I know it's probably crazy, but why do you think Voldemort would care about Hermann?" Harry asked.

"It's probably because he thinks he's Slytherin's heir," Hermione said. "If there really was a son of Slytherin out there, it might make it tough for him to be the heir. If it had anything to do with blood, anyway."

"I guess that makes sense," Harry said, as he helped Hermione gather her books.

They walked together through the dungeons, chatting. "So," Harry said, "Ron said that he told you what he was up to, and he let me in on it, too. Are you really okay with it?"

"I guess," Hermione said. "I'm trying very hard to keep an open mind. I knew he was sneaking around, doing something. I never would have thought it was to be with Zabini, though."

"I know what you mean," Harry said. "I felt betrayed last year, when he was sneaking around with a teacher. To find out he's spending his time with a Slytherin... I can't believe it."

"I think he expects me to cover for him," Hermione said. "He doesn't want word to get out, but I'm not sure why. I think everyone would understand."

"Are you kidding?" Harry said. "His mother would kill him if she found out. It's dangerous, for one thing. I heard that Blaise got Ron in the face with his stick the other day."

Hermione stopped in her tracks. She pulled out her wand and turned around.

"What's wrong?" Harry said.

"I thought I heard something behind us. It sounded like a cough."

"I didn't hear anything," Harry said. "Do you think someone's back there?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I don't see anyone." She thought she had seen a flash of yellow hair, but it was gone.

"Let's go," Harry said. "We should get back to the dormitory."

Hermione thought that someone had been behind them. At least they had only been discussing Ron's secret, and not Harry's plans. She didn't think news of Ron's nocturnal activities would get anyone into too much trouble.

Harry seemed relieved that Hermione had talked him out of challenging the Dark Lord tonight. She wondered what tensions Harry was under, pulling him between avoiding conflict and embracing it.

Hermione found herself lost in thought, and she was surprised when they reached the dormitory. She had navigated the stairs without thinking about it, not really paying attention to the conversation with Harry.

..

Lavender sat at a table in the common room studying when Hermione came down the next morning. Her eyes were red. She looked daggers at Hermione briefly, then looked pointedly down at her book.

Ron and Harry weren't here. Hermione sat down to wait. She tried not to look at Lavender, but it was difficult. She felt as if Lavender's stare was burning through her, but every time she looked up, Lavender was only staring at her book. The sixth time Hermione looked up, Lavender finally said something to her. "Did you want to say something?"

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, the words tumbling out. "I thought something was going on with you and Ron. I was wrong."

"That's a start," Lavender said, still looking at her book rather than meeting Hermione's eyes. "It doesn't explain your making up stories about me, though. What was with the whole jasmine thing?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione said. "There was a night, three days before the Yule break, when you came upstairs. It was late, and Ron hadn't come in yet. I saw you come in. Ron's come in a few nights smelling like jasmine, and I swear you smelled like it that night. Does this make any sense?"

"I had detentions late at night for the last week before the Yule break. You didn't notice?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I didn't. It must have been someone else, using a potion or illusion."

"Do you think Ron knows who it was?" Lavender asked, finally looking up. "If he's been smelling like some kind of perfume, maybe he has been hanging around with someone else?"

Hermione heard people tramping down the stairs from the boy's dormitories. She shrugged. "I'm not sure," she said, "but I don't think we should talk about it any more right now."

"Fair enough," Lavender replied. She picked up her books. "Mind if I come with you to breakfast?"

Hermione smiled, "Of course I don't mind."

Harry and Ron showed up, with a number of the other boys in tow. They split up, the others heading down while Harry and Ron walked over to Hermione and Lavender. "Where's Ginny?" Harry asked.

"She already went down," Lavender replied. "She said she needed to get to her first class early, so she was eating without us."

Harry looked disappointed. Hermione wondered if he had told Ginny about his plans last night; he hadn't told her when they got back to the dormitories. Ginny had already been asleep.

When they got downstairs, Hermione saw Ginny leaning over her food, her eyes streaked with tears. "Harry," Hermione hissed, "you should have told her you were back last night."

Ron looked confused, but stayed silent. Harry shrugged, "I didn't tell her I was going."

"Then why is she crying?" Hermione said. Harry looked over at her, then rushed to her side.

Ron smothered a chuckle. "He's been well tamed," Ron said.

"Does that mean that I've got to do some taming of my own?" Hermione chided back.

Harry whispered something to Ginny. She shook her head, her long red hair swaying in a way that made Hermione jealous, and stood up without a word. She walked away from the table, avoiding Ron's eyes as she went. She whispered to Hermione as she passed, "I'm so sorry," and then broke into a run.

Harry stood up and walked after Ginny. "I'll take care of it," he said, when Ron opened his mouth.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, and each shook their heads. Neither of them had any idea what was going on.

When they saw Harry later in the day, he said that he hadn't been able to find Ginny. She'd gone to see Professor McGonagall after her classes, and he hadn't found her since. He'd been hanging around the Deputy Headmistress' door until she told him to leave, and now he wasn't sure where Ginny had ended up.

"Professor McGonagall said it wasn't anything for me to be concerned about," Harry said, "but I don't know what that means."

"It probably means it's nothing for you to be concerned about," Hermione said.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding? Where have you been the last six and a half years? What does it usually mean when the Professors tell Harry not to worry?"

"Good point," Hermione said. She looked at Harry, "So, what should you be worrying about?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, so far, mysterious attacks on a part-time teacher and a mysterious urge to go towards Myrtle's bathroom. I don't think those fit in with Ginny going bonkers."

"Maybe she found out something," Hermione said, "Something she couldn't deal with. Seamus said that he saw her talking to Draco on her way into the hall."

"Draco?" Harry said, suddenly looking angry. "Do you think Malfoy's threatening her?"

"I don't think so," Hermione said. "You know Ginny, if he threatened her, she would give as good as she got. And after the way Malfoy spent the Yule break, I wouldn't think he'd want to threaten any Weasley. After all, the odds are that it was one of your brothers who cast the curse."

Ron smirked knowingly.

"What's that smile for? Did you do it?" she asked.

Ron shook his head, suddenly the picture of innocence. "I didn't do it," he said, "And what's more, I would wager my broom that no Weasley was behind it."

"He's probably right," Harry said, "it was a little sophisticated for a Weasley prank. Turning someone into a living Japanese cartoon is far more high-brow than turning them into a canary."

"Are you saying Fred and George couldn't have done it?" Ron asked defensively.

Hermione waved her hand between the two of them, "That's enough! You're both missing what's important here! Where's Ginny?"

"I'll try McGonagall again," Harry said. "If she doesn't tell me, I'll go straight to Dumbledore and make him tell me the whole story."

It wasn't until that night that Hermione caught a glimpse of Ginny again, and then she was apparently on her way to a detention with Snape. Harry had no luck with either Dumbledore or McGonagall, although he said that the Headmaster had been in good spirits, and the Deputy Headmistress in very poor ones. He filled them in quickly in the common room.

"I couldn't get any news out of either one of them," Harry said. "Not about Ginny, anyway. Dumbledore said that he'd just ordered Jalaja to serve a month of detentions in the Hospital Ward."

Ron groaned, "Remind me not to get into any trouble in the next month."

"Noted," Hermione said. "I feel sorry for Madam Pomfrey."

"Me, too," Harry said. "But at least she can move. Imagine being Hunter right now."

Ron shuddered. "Don't even say it. If he's lucky, he can't hear a thing she says."

On that note, they said their goodbyes and went up to sleep.

..

Hermione was dreaming... she was under attack, and she couldn't do anything about it. The masked attacker was casting spell after spell on her, and she couldn't even move. She was lying down in the middle of the library, and students all around her were just ignoring the attacks. Even Ron and Harry were just standing there, talking about Quidditch.

She looked around her. She could see the door to the restricted section open, and she thought there might be something there that would save her. She reached out her hand, and tried to pull something towards her. A blue book fell on the floor, and started to slide slowly towards her. Madam Pince walked up to it, and put her foot on the book, holding it in place.

"You shouldn't be here," Madam Pince said to the attacker. "I told you not to come back."

The attacker lifted his wand from Hermione and pointed at Madam Pince. In a high-pitched, nasal voice, he said "You must wake up!"

Hermione's eyes flew open. A familiar looking house-elf wearing mis-matched socks was standing on her bed, looking her in the eyes.

"Please, Miss Granger, do not be angry with Dobby. Dobby only wants to help Harry Potter."

"You shouldn't be in the girls dormitory at night," she whispered back.

Dobby momentarily leered at her, an expression so unexpected she almost laughed at it. "Who do you think cleans Miss Grangers' clothing at night? Poor Dobby must gather everything from Gryffindor now, since the other elves are afraid to come near here. But that is not important right now. Harry Potter is in grave danger!"

One of the other girls turned over in bed, and mumbled, "Sod off." A few of the others shifted their positions as well.

That made up Hermione's mind. "You can tell me about it down in the Common room," she whispered, "but do it quietly."

She stood up, wrapping her dressing gown around her nightgown, and marched for the door. She found Dobby standing in front of the fire, warming his hands in it. He was suddenly apologetic. "Please, forgive Dobby for entering your room. Dobby will punish himself later. But Harry Potter needs his friends' help!"

"What help does he need?" she replied.

"Dobby saw Harry Potter leaving the tower. Dobby saw him going down the stairs. Harry Potter is walking in his sleep, but he is not looking where he is going. Dobby asked Winky to watch Harry Potter, but Dobby is afraid something terrible is going to happen to Harry Potter."

"Dobby," Hermione said, rubbing her forehead. "I have a dream that someday, not only will all of the House-Elves be free, but they'll also understand the proper use of pronouns."

Dobby looked hurt. His ears drooped, and his eyes looked like they belonged on a very sad beagle.

"All right, there's no need for that," she said crisply, "I'll take care of this."

She was still dressed in her nightclothes and dressing gown, but she decided not to take the time to change. She couldn't very well let her best friend die because she was embarrassed to be out without her school robes.

Hermione left the Common Room swiftly. She wasn't worried about the faculty seeing her right now. She would have welcomed them, since they might have been able to help her track down Harry. Instead, she had the aide of a slightly peeved house elf.

"Hurry. Dobby will lead you to Harry Potter," he said, as he began to bound down the stairs. She followed quickly, avoiding two trick steps and hopping as the staircase started to move.

She realized they were heading for Moaning Myrtle's washroom. "Is Harry in the girl's washroom?"

Dobby nodded nervously, "Yes, yes, Harry Potter was walking towards the washroom when I saw him."

"Then what do you mean about him being in grave danger?" Hermione asked. "Is Moaning Myrtle planning on splashing him or something?"

"No," Dobby said, "Miss Myrtle isn't there. She was run off by the man with the snake. That's why Harry Potter..."

"Is in grave danger, I know," Hermione rolled her eyes, and hurried on. She wasn't sure why a man with a snake was such a threat. He was probably a plumber treating a clogged drain. "Dobby, when you say a man with a snake, do you mean that he perchance had a long piece of metal with a hook on the end?"

"No, no," Dobby shook his head wildly. "The man left the snake in the room. It was covered with different colors, and hissing."

"A real snake," Hermione muttered to herself. Then her eyes flipped open, "Oh, no. Wormtail. Dobby, get Dumbledore!"

Dobby disappeared with a crack. Hermione had already been walking quickly, but now she began to run, taking several stairs at a time. She stumbled more than once, catching herself on the banister. Her ankles were in pain, but she worked through that, pushing herself to get there.

She threw open the door to the washroom, to find Harry kneeling in front of the sink. His eyes were shut. He was talking, mumbling under his breath, "Open, open, open, open..."

"Harry!" Hermione called, running towards him.

_Hiss._ Hermione stopped, staring at the sink. A coral snake was coiled in the sink. It hissed at her again, before returning its gaze to Harry. Its slitted eyes were focused directly on Harry's face. Its tongue slid smoothly out of its mouth, tasting the air, and then back in.

Hermione had neglected her studies of Muggle animals, but she recognized the Coral Snake. It wasn't native to England, and probably wouldn't last very long outside in the current weather, so she didn't recognize it because it was something she was likely to encounter. She recognized it because it was deadly.

She inched closer to Harry very, very, slowly. The snake hissed, again, and this time, it bared its fangs.

She looked around wildly. There was no sign of Myrtle, but no sign of Wormtail, either. Why had he left Harry alone with the snake?

"Harry," she whispered. He didn't react, and neither did the snake. Was it her imagination, or was Harry starting to hiss slightly as he talked? Oh, no. She realized what they were trying to do.

"Harry," she said, "you've got to wake up. You have to wake up now. They're trying to get you to open the Chamber of Secrets, Harry." The snake struck at her, but its teeth closed harmlessly on her robes. She fell backwards onto her hands in panic, but the snake returned to its place, and continued staring at Harry. He had stopped talking briefly when she was talking, but he was repeating it again now.

"Harry, Wormtail's here!" Hermione said. "He's trying to get something from inside the Chamber!"

Harry shook his head. "Wormtail?" Harry said, weakly.

That was why Wormtail wasn't here. If Harry had even a glimmer of Wormtail being nearby, it might make him angry enough to throw off the control that Voldemort had on him, whatever its source. "Yes, Wormtail!" Hermione said.

The snake coiled up, looking at her, and she could see that it was getting ready to strike once again. It seemed to be moving sluggishly, though. A cold English washroom in Winter was not the ideal environment for a tropical reptile.

She pulled her wand out, and pointed it at the snake. She didn't like snakes. The last one that she had met at Hogwarts had turned her into a statue. The snake hissed, and as it struck, Hermione realized her error. Her reflexes weren't fast enough. Before she could get a spell out, the snake had moved out from under where her wand was pointed.

Its teeth snapped together tightly, gleaming fangs slick with poison, inches in front of her face. Harry's right hand was tightly wrapped around the base of its neck.

"Hermione," he said, his voice shaking. "What's going on here?"

"I'm not sure, Harry," she said, "but I think there's something down there."

"Down where?" he asked. He followed her eyes to the sink. "Down there? You mean, the Chamber of Secrets? There's nothing else down there, other than a few statues, and whatever's left of the Basilisk." He was talking casually, as if he was totally unaware that he had a deadly snake in his hand.

"I think there's something else, Harry. And, more to the point, You Know Who thinks there's something more than that."

"You said something about Wormtail. And Voldemort. Why do you think they're involved? Couldn't I have been sleepwalking again?"

"Harry, where do you think the snake came from?"

"What snake?" he asked. Then he looked in his hand. "Oh, that snake." Harry swallowed. "Would you mind doing something about that for me?"

"Of course not," Hermione said. She pointed her wand towards the snake, then flicked twice, with a muttered incantation. The snake vanished.

"Right," Harry said, "Thanks. We'd probably better get back to bed before any of the Professors find us."

The door swung open, and Professor Snape was there, smiling evilly, with Dobby shaking by his side. "It's a little late for that, Potter."


	11. Mistaken Impressions

**Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor**

**Chapter Eleven - Mistaken Impressions**

"A little trust goes a long way. The less you use, the further you'll go." -- Rule #30, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Pirates (From Schlock Mercenary, an online sci-fi comic)

Ron was sitting on the couch in the living room when Harry and Hermione came back in. "What's going on? Where were you?"

"Down in Myrtle's washroom," Harry said.

"Down in the washroom? Harry, have you lost your mind?" Ron nearly shouted.

"Probably," Harry said, nodding. He had obviously been shaken by the experience. It was obvious to Hermione, at any rate. Ron was still hopping mad.

"Why were you both down there in your bedclothes, anyway? Someone's liable to think you were up to something else, you know."

They had already been treated to this happy thought by Professor Snape, before he took fifty points away from Gryffindor and sentenced Harry to a week of detention, in the form of more Occulumancy lessons. Coming from Ron, though, it was the straw that broke the camel's back. "You think so, Ron?" Hermione asked, her eyes flashing. "You think that perhaps people might have the wrong idea, with us leaving the dormitories and coming back strange hours? Someone might even, perhaps, question our honesty, is that what you're saying?"

Ron swallowed, "Well, I'm sure it was totally innocent, but you know, other people might think otherwise."

"Yes, they might," Hermione agreed. "Harry, would you like to tell Ron exactly what we were doing? I'm afraid that he might have the wrong idea, and I'd like to make sure that he knows every single solitary detail. Unless that would make you uncomfortable, Ron?"

The portrait slid open. On edge, they all whirled around, wands at the ready. Ginny stood there, looking exhausted. She gave out a high-pitched squeal, jumping in the air.

"What are all of you doing here?" Ginny asked.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, speaking over Ron's snide response.

She nodded, "I just couldn't deal with all of this right now. I'm sorry I reacted so badly."

"That's all right," Harry said. "What's wrong?"

"I think you already know," she said sadly, "but I understand why you didn't tell me. I think I need to go get some sleep. Ron," she said, looking at her brother, "I understand, and if there's any support you need, please let me know." She walked up the stairs, leaving a bewildered crowd behind her.

Ron shook his head, his eyes wide, "Bonkers, she's absolutely bonkers."

"What was that about, Ron?" Hermione asked. "You have her support for what?"

"I don't know," he said. "She hasn't said two words to me in days. Harry, she's your girlfriend, do you have any idea what she's going on about?"

"Not a clue," Harry responded. "Hermione, do you think you could try to talk to her? She seems to think I already know, and trust me, Ron and I are both ignorant."

"I know," Hermione said. They both stiffened. "I didn't mean it that way. Look, I'll be happy to talk with her, but I don't think she'll say anything to me. I don't know if it's important, though. We have two mysteries that we've all been talking about, and if it was connected to the attacks on Fleur, or Harry's mysterious dreams, I think she would have said something."

"What about the unknown Slytherin girl?" Harry asked.

"Or her, right," Hermione responded, rolling her eyes. "Three mysteries."

"And Hunter's stoning?" Ron asked. "Have you figured that one out?"

Hermione took a deep breath. She was too tired to deal with this right now. "Yes, that is among the mysteries that we have to sort out, which we don't have to enumerate right now, but I don't see how it's connected to Ginny." Ron looked disappointed. Hermione wondered if he thought he could keep listing great unknowns all night.

"Ron, are you sure you don't know what she's talking about?" Harry asked. "You have been keeping some secrets from us."

"Well, I didn't tell her about my lessons with Blaise," Ron said, "but that's all. I don't think I need her support to deal with that."

"Don't you think you ought to tell her?" Hermione demanded. "She's your sister, don't you think she deserves to know? Weren't you planning to tell her?"

"All right," Ron said, waving his hands in front of his face. "I didn't expect the bloody Spanish Inquisition. I'll tell her."

"Good," Hermione said. "I don't think she'll talk to any of us tonight, though. I think we should all be back in bed, don't you?"

"Good night," Ron said, leaning in to give her a peck in the cheek. Hermione stepped back. She felt cross with Ron again, but she wasn't sure why. Intellectually, she was sure that he wasn't holding anything back from her. Emotionally, she felt that Ron must be hiding at least a few mysteries of his own.

Hermione spent the next day trying to catch up with Ginny, and avoiding Ron. Something peculiar was going on; Slytherin girls would look at her with pity, while a number of the boys were openly flirting with her. Draco gave her a sad smile whenever he saw her.

She caught up with Ginny at dinner. "What's going on, Ginny?" Lavender excused herself, leaving the room.

Ginny looked at her in surprise. "Why are you asking me? Don't tell me that you don't know."

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're going on about, and neither do Harry or Ron."

"I doubt that," Ginny said. "I can't believe my brother would carry on like this. I understand why he'd keep it from me, but to make you think that you were his girlfriend? I didn't think he had it in him."

"What do you mean, he made me think I was his girlfriend?" Hermione said, louder than she meant to. Conversation around the table stilled in both directions. "We can't talk here," she said, tugging on Ginny's shoulder.

"I'm still eating," Ginny protested.

"No you're not," Hermione said firmly. "You're going to tell me what this is all about."

"Ask Ron," Ginny said. "I'm not going to be the one to break the news to you, if he's not man enough to say it."

Lavender pushed past them on the way to the dining room. She didn't say a word to Hermione or Ginny.

"Hang on, didn't you just finish eating?" Ginny asked. Lavender shrugged, and walked on.

Ginny turned back to talk with Hermione, but Hermione was still staring at Lavender. "Something's wrong with her."

Ginny looked curiously at Lavender, who was still walking slowly towards the table. "The shoes. Those look like combat boots. They're not what she was wearing earlier."

Hermione got her wand out of her pocket, and folded her arms to cover it up. "I think it's time we got to the bottom of this."

Lavender looked over her shoulder, but not right at Hermione or Ginny. She started walking briskly towards the Professor's table. Hermione and Ginny followed quickly. "Do you think we should involve the Professors?" Ginny asked.

"I'm not sure," Hermione said softly. "I'd like to bring it up with McGonagall or Valek, but I don't see any reason to involve Snape."

"Well, Valek's not there," Ginny said. "I thought you didn't trust her?"

"I'm not sure that I do," Hermione said, "but I'll bet she knows something about this. If we can catch up with Lavender, I think we can prove it."

Lavender, though, was talking with Snape, and leaving the hall with him in the opposite direction. Snape had a scowl on his face. "Should we keep following her?" Ginny asked.

"Not right now," Hermione said. "I think this mystery can wait, at least for now. You still need to fill me in on yours, though."

"Not here," Ginny said. Dinner was starting to break up, and a number of students were watching Ginny and Hermione closely, especially the Slytherins.

"Where do you want to go?" Hermione said.

"How about the Room of Requirements?" Ginny replied. "I know it's off-limits, but Ron let slip that he's been there."

She nodded, not surprised. It would have been a good place for Ron and Zabini to practice, now that she thought about it. Maybe she'd even get a glimpse of the mysterious teacher.

They marched up the stairs towards the fourth floor corridor. Someone was moving through the green mist in the construction area. Someone female.

"Is that Lavender?" Ginny asked.

"Which one?" Hermione responded.

"Neither of them," Ginny said. "She wasn't wearing combat boots, and the other Lavender's hair was done up differently tonight."

"How many Lavenders are there?" Hermione asked. "I could understand two, but three?"

"Why would two make more sense than three?" Ginny asked. "I thought two was more than enough of her. Now, two Harrys might not be such a bad thing..."

"Stop dreaming," Hermione said. "And just come out with it before Ron shows up."

"You don't think he's coming here, do you?" Ginny asked. "I mean, a _girl_ just went in the room."

"It's probably one of the people he's meeting with," Hermione said, "under a disguise."

"One of the people? There's more than one?" Ginny looked sick.

"Well, if you figured out the one, I suppose I can tell you that there are two."

"At the same time?"

"I suppose so," Hermione said. "It's probably a lot better than just meeting with one of them at a time."

"Better?" Ginny said weakly.

"What's going on?" Hermione said. "Or rather, what do you think's going on?"

"Draco said," Ginny started out. "I can't say it."

"What did Malfoy say?" Hermione asked. "You have to tell me. I think there's been a mistake."

"He said that he heard Harry talking, and that Ron and Zabini had been meeting. Together."

"Yes," Hermione said, "that's true, although I don't know what business it is of Malfoy's."

Ginny turned beet red, "You did know? And you didn't tell me?"

"If your brother wants to practice beating up a Slytherin, I don't see why I should object."

Ginny did a double take. "Beating _up_? He's meeting with Zabini to _practice fighting_?"

"What did you think he was meeting with him for?" Hermione asked.

"Well, Malfoy said they were, you know, together. Like Harry and I," Ginny said.

Hermione finally figured out what Ginny was hinting at. "He said that Zabini and your brother were having amorous relations? And you believed him?"

"He swore on his father's name," Ginny said.

"That and a shilling won't even make a phone call," Hermione said.

"I'll kill him," Ginny said.

"No," Hermione said, her voice sounding sinister. "Leave him to me."

The next morning, Hermione and Ron walked down to breakfast, arm in arm. Ginny held Harry's hand as they walked proudly down the stairs. The breakfast hall was noisier than usual.

Hermione knew that she must look a fright. Her eyes had dark circles under them. She had been up far too late last night, working through some of her old supplies. From the commotion downstairs, it appeared that it had been worth it.

As they came into the dining room, the source of the noise began to become more clear. Professors were attempting to gather up buttons, buttons that had been placed all along all four of the tables along with the breakfast food. Hermione had been forced to promise not to leave clothes in the common room anymore, in order to enlist the help of the house elves. She was already thinking of another angle, though, to ensure their freedom.

The buttons themselves were adding to the confusion. Hermione was proud of the potion she had figured out for them, a potion that drew on her memories to show Hogwarts what they had all missed over the summer. Not only did they have vivid moving pictures, but they also had vivid sounds. Loud "Bonks" filled the great hall. While news of Draco's Chibi curse had spread after Christmas break was over, no student but Hermione had seen what the damage looked like, until now. Now, to the contrary, all of Hogwarts' students were getting a visual display of what Super-Deformed Malfoy and his companions looked like.

Professor Snape scowled in her general direction, before turning back to his work. He had an armful of buttons, to which he was quickly adding. The Slytherins were mostly helping out, except for Blaise Zabini. He was picking buttons up off the table and palming them to Gryffindors as they passed by. Hermione wondered, not for the first time, if Zabini had been behind Draco's curse. If so, she was happy that she could help out.

Ron shook his head in amazement. "Is this what you were working on all night?"

She shook her head, doing her best to portray innocence. "Who, me? I don't have any idea what you're talking about." She yawned as she finished the sentence, slurring her words, but he didn't seem to mind.

Draco and his goons were nowhere to be seen. She wondered if he was avoiding an embarassing scene, or if he had already had one and she'd missed it. She hoped for the latter. Although she had looked forward to seeing Draco's reaction, she wasn't sure if she needed to see it right now.

Between her exhaustion, and her worry over Harry, the next few days passed all too quickly. Headmaster Dumbledore spoke with her sadly about her prank. He exhorted her to try to find a way to build a bridge with other students. Once, even as recently as a few weeks before, she might have agreed. It was infuriating that Ron seemed less upset with Malfoy than she was. He approved of her prank, but didn't seem to hold a grudge against Malfoy at all.

Hermione was waiting for Harry in the common room. It was a week to the day from the time she had promised to think about Harry's problem. She hadn't given him a solution yet, and she expected that he would be along shortly, on his way to meet his doom. She had one idea left, and she had hoped that it wouldn't be necessary, but she was out of time.

She heard his soft footsteps on the stairs, in the silence of the common room. She didn't see him, but she knew he was there. She walked in front of the Fat Lady, and crossed her arms.

Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, and looked at her crossly. "You're not going to stop me, are you Hermione? I haven't left the Common Room at night, but I've still been having the dreams."

"You can't go to him like this, Harry. If he can get into your mind at this distance, through all of the protections of Hogwarts, what chance would you have face to face with him?"

"Hermione, I don't think I have any other choice."

"I don't agree, Harry," she said. "There's at least one other choice."

"What is it?" he asked, hopefully.

"You could find out what he wants," she said. "You could go into the Chamber of Secrets again."

----------

Author's Note -- All puns and Monty Python references intentional. As if I had to tell you that.

To those who didn't get it... I'm a fan of Anime, Japanese animated movies. There's a common animation technique that's referred to as "Chibis" or "Super-Deformed", which is used, for example, in the SD Gundam series that's currently on the tube in America. Many anime series use Chibis at some point - these are the short, stout, melodramatic characters, who are usually making loud sounds, crying visibly, or generally overacting. That Blaise would use a curse of obvious Oriental origins might be significant to the story line, or it might be a sign that I'm not getting enough sleep.

Speaking of lack of sleep, our twins have arrived. We didn't name them Fred and George, although their favorite teddy bears do go by those names. Their favorite monkeys are as yet unnamed, but I'm thinking of calling one of them Ook.


	12. I Bet You Thought This Was The End

**Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor**

**Chapter Twelve - I Bet You Thought This Was Going to Be the End**

_ How long a minute is depends on which side of the bathroom door you're on.  
-- Common Wisdom _

"Are you sure about this?" Ron asked, peering at Harry. "I mean, do you really think that you should risk going back there?"

"Me?" Harry asked. "I have to go. I don't think there's any reason for both of you to come along, though."

"You're kidding," Ron chided. "Harry, you don't think we would let you go down there alone, do you? Who knows what might happen to you?"

"The basilisk is gone, Ron," Harry said, "and I don't think there's anything else down there. If there were, I can't see Voldemort sending Wormtail. He's not good at dealing with anything but unarmed Muggles and the occasional worker at the Ministry."

Hermione didn't miss the catch in the voice when Harry said Peter Pettigrew's nickname. The rat had been the cause of pain and death, and Harry knew that he could have stopped most of it if he hadn't stopped Sirius from killing Wormtail. Hermione knew Harry hated him, hated Peter with intensity, but she was proud that he'd been able to keep from killing the man. She didn't know if she would have been able to, if their situations had been reversed.

Harry hissed at the faucet that bore the snake emblem. The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets opened.

"Well, I guess there's nothing for it," Ron said. He stepped in first. Harry followed him, with Hermione bringing up the rear.

"You fought that?" Ron said, staring at the skeletal remains of the Basilisk. Ginny had described it more than once, and Hermione remembered an impression of it from right before her petrification, but no one else had seen it since.

"Yeah," Harry said.

"Not bad," Ron said. "Remind me not to piss you off."

"You're the one wearing the magic armor," Harry reminded him. Ron had jumped at the excuse to wear the Armor of Gryffindor again, although he had seemed to feel guilty about being better protected than his friends. Hermione thought he looked good, in the gilt-covered armor and long red cloak.

Hermione ignored them, looking around the room. "There's nothing else here," she said. "There should have been something."

Harry shrugged. "It's not like I searched the place, but it didn't seem to have much to search."

"There could be something under all this mud," Ron said, pointing to the grimy water.

"There could," Hermione said. She turned around, looking at the way they'd come in. "Harry," she said.

"Yes?" Harry responded, looking back the way they came.

"Are you sure there's no way we could have closed the door behind us?" She thought she saw something moving in the shadows, in the passageway.

"If we had," Harry said, "I'm not sure we could have reopened it from down here. Why?"

"It just occurred to me that leaving an open door for Wormtail might not have been a wise idea." There was definitely something moving. Hermione's wand was pointing at the door. Ron and Harry took a cue.

"What do you think is there?" Harry asked.

A squeak answered him, from the hall. Then another.

"It sounds like rats, Harry," Ron said.

More squeaks answered him. "A lot of rats," Hermione confirmed. She saw red eyes glowing in the darkness of the passage, just outside the room. Lots of red eyes. They seemed big to her, far too big for what she would expect from a rat. She shivered. "Harry," she said softly. "Do you think we could get up on the statues behind us?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Harry said, backing into the water.

Hermione caught a glimpse of silver from the hallway. Wormtail was there. That was not a good sign. They backed up towards the statue. "I can't climb this backwards," Ron said.

The squeaking suddenly stopped. "What are they waiting for?" Harry asked.

As if his question had been a signal, the rats suddenly charged out of the passage. There were over a dozen of them, Hermione saw. "Climb!" she commanded. They turned around and climbed up the side of the statue, seeking higher ground.

There was a green flash just as they reached the top. Hermione screamed, "Ron!"

"I'm here," he said. "Harry?"

"He missed," Harry said. Hermione looked down at the rats. They were huge, she realized. It hadn't just been her imagination -- they were the size of Rottweilers, with less table manners.

One of them had a silver paw, she saw, and that one was pointing at Harry.

"It's Wormtail," Harry said in disgust. He pointed the wand at the rat. _Stupefy_, he commanded. Another rat jumped in the way, and fell to the ground unconscious.

"They're protecting him," Hermione said, surprised. There was some sort of connection between Wormtail and the other big rats.

Each of them started flinging curses at the rats. Harry seemed fixed on Wormtail, but Wormtail used his fellows as rodent shields, while flinging curses of his own back from his silver paw. Ron and Harry were concentrating on repelling the rats that were trying to climb the giant head that they were perched on.

"This isn't working!" Ron said. "There are too many of them!"

It seemed like every rat they cursed was replaced by two more. They had to get rid of Wormtail, she realized. She narrowed her eyes, and waved the wand at him. Another rat jumped in the way, but that was fine with her. "_Serpensortia_," she commanded. A large coral snake shot from her wand, landing on the slick surface. It hissed at Wormtail.

"Tell it what to do, Harry," Hermione said, as she returned to knocking rats off the wall beneath them. "Tell it to bite Wormtail!"

He hissed at the snake. It dodged the rat that was protecting Wormtail, and snapped its jaws at him. Wormtail scurried back. The other rats paused in their attacks. They looked confused. "That's it, Harry," Hermione encouraged him. "The rats aren't attacking. If you can stop Wormtail..."

"The snake's bite will kill him," Ron said. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Why not?" Harry said. "If I'd killed him years ago, it would have saved us a lot of trouble. It would have saved Sirius' life!" He hissed at the snake, and it slythered quickly towards Wormtail, who danced backwards. The rats who had been climbing the statue stopped. Some were scurrying back up the passageway, while others looked for places to hide from the stinging curses.

"Think about it," Ron said. "We need him alive. He can tell us where You Know Who is hiding, and what he wants from this place!"

"I don't care," Harry said. "He killed my parents. He killed Sirius, and all those Muggles."

"Killing him won't bring them back," Ron said. He lowered his wand, and put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

The silver-pawed rat squealed, and pointed its paw at the snake, which fell down. Then, squeaking, it ran in full retreat up the passageway, pushing other rats out of the way as it went.

"The other rats don't seem to be giving us any trouble," Ron said. He climbed carefully down, and helped Hermione from below.

"Hullo," Harry said. "Where did that rat go?"

"You'll have to be a little more specific," Ron said. "Which rat?"

"There was a rat, right here," Harry said, pointing to the base of the head. "It disappeared."

Hermione felt around the base. Her hand went through the side. "There's nothing here. It's an illusion." She felt around for the edge of the illusion. "A person could fit through this."

"Let's go in," Ron said. "We can't let the rat have all the fun."

"Besides," Harry said, "We don't know if it's still under Wormtail's control."

On the other side of the illusion was a tunnel, only waist high. As the students entered the tunnel, the light from the main room faded away. "Lumos," Ron said, waiving his wand, and the tunnel was abruptly lit around them.

"Bollocks," Ron breathed. "What's all this?"

The ground of the tunnel was dark and slimy, the usual sort of floor that one might expect to find in an underground cave. The walls, though, were completely clean. Made of what looked to be engraved jade, they were covered with runes.

"Does it matter?" Harry answered. "We need to catch up with that rat. We don't know what Wormtail's using it for."

"It matters," Hermione said, studying the engraving. "These runes form a solid barrier. They're meant to stop something that's in here from getting to the outside world."

Ron swallowed, "It might have been nice to have known that earlier. Can you break the wall?"

"I'm not sure that I need to," Hermione said. "It looks like they were aimed at someone fairly specific. Look here," she pointed at a symbol in the shape of a snake. "That rune is the symbol for someone. Three guesses who?"

"Slytherin," Ron gasped. "He's not down here, is he? I thought he was supposed to have been buried in London."

"Very good, Ron," Hermione praised him, "that is the most commonly accepted story. But he died a long time ago, and he wasn't on very good terms with anyone else when he did. He could have ended up almost anywhere. I scarcely think we'll have to worry about that now though."

"If the barrier isn't going to stop us, can we go on?" Harry asked. "It looks like the tunnel widens up ahead. We might be able to stand up."

Hermione's arms were already beginning to become sore. She hadn't read all of the runes on the wall, but she wasn't worried about the barrier any more. "Who ever the barrier was meant to close in, they must have died years ago," Hermione said. "We can go on."

The ceiling of the tunnel did indeed rise up ahead. "Let's hurry," Ron said. "We need to find the rat."

Hermione nodded. They walked through the tunnels, trying to find rat tracks in the slimy mud. Here and there, Hermione thought she'd found tracks, but nothing was conclusive. The tunnel branched every few hundred meters, and many of the side tunnels curved backwards. There were bridges above from time to time. They seemed to be leaving enough tracks in the mud that they weren't worried about being lost, but Hermione had no idea what she would find, either.

"Do you think Slytherin made all of this?" Harry said. "Is this all part of the Chamber?"

"I don't think so," Hermione said. "I think this is one of the Secrets it was meant to guard, though. This cave looks even more ancient than Hogwarts."

"Harry," Ron whispered.

"Yes, Ron? What is it?" Harry whispered back, instantly on alert.

"Do you see that light up ahead?" Ron pointed at one of the bridges over the passageway. It wasn't far, but in the darkness of the caves, they couldn't see anything in detail that was more than twenty paces away. Hermione strained her eyes, but she wasn't sure if she could see what Ron was pointing at.

"I think there's something moving up there," Ron said. "I'll go first. I'm wearing the armor." He sounded as if he thought that would silence any argument.

"How do you plan on getting up there, Ron?" Hermione asked. "You don't have a broomstick in your pocket, per chance?"

"No, he's just happy to see you," Harry said.

Ron scowled at him, but let the comment pass. "I figured I'd have you levitate me up, Hermione."

"I can do it," Harry said.

"That's all right, Harry, I'd rather have Hermione help me out."

She swished her wand, and flicked at him, with a whispered "Wingardium Leviosa." He floated up, and she placed him securely on the bridge. He levitated her and Harry up to be next to him.

There were tunnels on both sides of the bridge. They were both about the same size, but while one was pitch black, the other had the faintest of light coming from it. The light was flickering, giving the shadows some movement.

"I can't see anything, Ron," Hermione whispered to him.

"I don't think the light is here all by itself," he whispered back.

They walked through the tunnel. It had a slight curve to it, and Hermione could tell that the light was reflecting off the walls from a point much farther ahead. The walls were shining jade, with runes and hieroglyphics embedded in them. She would have loved to have taken the time to study them, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency. Wormtail's rat was still down here, somewhere, and she didn't know whether or not it was still under his command. If it was, then they needed to make sure they found what Wormtail was looking for before it did.

Even without taking the time to read the symbols, she recognized the sources for most of them. They seemed to be from a number of different places around the world, many of which should not have been in communication with Great Britain during the time before Hogwarts. She didn't think that this chamber could have been built more recently, though. It had too much of a feeling of age. The fact that some of the more prominent symbols appeared to be from a Mayan calendar was probably nothing more than a coincidence.

Coming around a curve, the tunnel widened almost without notice. The light that had been so dim at the tunnel's end was much brighter here, and Hermione flinched involuntarily, to shield her eyes from the bright flames that lept ahead of her.

The tunnel had ended in a large, circular room. The flame originated from a stone well in the center of the room, and it was ringed with pews. Hermione thought it looked like it might have been a temple, at one point, but it didn't look like it had been used recently.

She looked at Ron, about to suggest going back, but he was frozen in place, his wand pointed across the room. He placed his left finger on his lips, signalling silence. Hermione and Harry both nodded, and followed his eyes. There was another corridor, up ahead, and she thought that perhaps something was moving there.

Ron quietly crept towards the corridor, his wand out. The atmosphere was absolutely still, even the flame was completely silent. Hermione thought that the pounding of her pulse must be too loud for anyone to miss, and the sound of her breathing couldn't have gone unnoticed. She looked at Ron. He seemed much calmer, but he also seemed to be standing strangely. His cloak was dragging on the ground on one side, as if it were caught on something.

As Ron reached the other corridor, the shape abruptly became clear. It was a man, or rather, something much like a man. It was tall, and gaunt, with skin that was paler than the moon. It had eyes that seemed to be all black, and its hair was missing in patches, but black where it could be seen.

The shape was almost naked, wearing a chain mail skirt around its thin waist. The only other ornament that it wore was a gaudy ruby on a golden chain around its neck. It rasped at them, a sound that chilled Hermione to the bone. It sounded like it was saying, "Welcome."

Ron whipped his wand in its direction, and shouted "_Stupefy_!" The thing fell backwards.

"Ron, what did you do that for?" Hermione snapped at him.

"Are you bonkers, Hermione?" Ron snapped back. "He was obviously some kind of vampire."

"Oh really, Ron? He wasn't showing even half of the signs of being a vampire."

"Come on, Hermione, just look at him, lying there, breathing. He's breathing?" Ron sounded surprised. "I guess he's not a vampire. I still don't think he's anyone we should be talking with. Will you look at that necklace, though?"

There was a faint squeak, and Ron's cloak moved slightly. The rat uncurled itself from underneath, where it had been hiding. It smiled at Hermione, and sprang for the necklace, dragging it off the man's neck.

"It's getting away!" Ron shouted, and ran after it. It was headed for the corridor that the man had come from.

"Watch...it," Hermione commanded Harry, pointing at the man that Ron had stunned, and she ran after Ron. The rat was outpacing them, but at least the corridor it was using was straight, so they could keep sight of it and each other. The walls were lined with carved out catafalques, platforms that held coffins, or in some cases, merely dried out corpses. Ron was breathing hard, but the wheezing Weasley was nonetheless gaining on the rodent, who seemed to be struggling with the chain.

Hermione took a chance on getting a clear enough shot, and swished and flicked at the chain. "Wingardium Leviosa," she called, lifting the chain up. The rodent didn't let go, hanging from the amulet by its teeth.

Ron didn't hesitate. He drew one of the Beater's Bats that had become part of his paramilitary garb, and swung at the rodent, knocking it clear of the amulet and into the wall. It slid to the ground with a crunch. Hermione winced -- she had no doubt that she'd seen the death of that rat. She claimed the chain, stuffing it into a pocket, and held Ron's hand as they walked back towards Harry. He kept looking behind him as he walked.

"Is there something wrong?" Hermione asked.

"Are you sure it's dead?" Ron said.

"Positive. I saw the way it landed. How could it be alive?"

"I don't know, but I could have sworn I heard a SQUEAK," he said.

"A squeak?" Hermione asked. She turned, and looked back at the rat. It hadn't moved.

"No, more like a SQUEAK," Ron said.

She looked at him strangely. "Are you sure it didn't bite you?"

"No, I'm fine. It's probably just the air down here, playing tricks on me."

Harry was sitting down when they got back to the temple chamber, and so was the man. He looked even worse than he had a few moments before. He was ravenously chewing down a bag of Every Flavored Beans that Harry had brought with him.

"He woke up," Harry said, as they walked in, "and begged for something to eat. He looked so pitiful, I couldn't refuse him."

"Better the beans than you, Harry," Ron said, keeping a sharp eye on the man.

"Forget it, Ron, he's not a vampire," Hermione said. "He's a person."

"I've never seen anyone that looked like him," Ron said.

"Me either," Hermione answered, "except in the history books."

The man nodded, but kept eating the beans. He seemed to be savoring every bite, even one that Hermione was quite sure was Week-Old Sweat Socks. She pulled out her water jug, and offered it to him. He smiled at her gratefully, then upended the jug, draining it entirely, before going back to the beans.

"You should be careful," Hermione said, "if it's been some time since you've eaten, trying to eat too much now could kill you."

The man stopped, and looked at her, stunned. Then he laughed, a choking, rasping laugh that convinced her that she had been right - he had been without food or water for entirely too long to be healthy. And yet, he seemed to be entirely too healthy for that.

He laughed himself out, then looked at her. He rasped, "Kill me? Aye, I suppose it might. Nothing else has."

"How long have you been down here?" Hermione asked.

"Too long, too long," he said. "I apologize for not being a better host." He choked out the last few words.

"Don't strain yourself," Hermione cautioned. "We need to get you out of here, and get you medical attention."

He shook his head. "I'm trapped down here. Father made certain of that. I can't even leave the temple and the tombs."

"Your father trapped you here?" Harry said incredulously. "I thought the closet under the stairs was bad. How could he have done this?"

"I wish I knew," the man said.

"There's got to be a way to get you out," Hermione said. "I bet it's linked to the barrier spell on the entrance."

The man shrugged. "I'm not sure. I was always more concerned with potions than with writing. And, since I've been here, I can't even practice. All of the runes are spelled to prevent me from being able to read them."

Hermione walked to the jade walls on the tunnel just outside the temple. "I don't know," she said. "The writing here doesn't seem to talk about the barrier spell. It goes on about something called the Long Count here in Mayan, and about the scales in Egyptian."

"Are there any common themes?" the man asked. His voice sounded better. He borrowed Harry's water jug, and this time drank more slowly.

"I'm not sure," she said. "It says a lot about blood, though. Wait a minute, this could be it!"

"What does it say," the man asked eagerly. His face was alight with anticipation.

"It says something about the blood of three willing sacrifices. I think it's some kind of prophecy, but there are some symbols here in common with the spell above."

"Sacrifices? I don't like the sound of that," Ron said.

"It doesn't look like they have to die, Ron," Hermione said. "I think it's just symbolic, like a way for us to say that we think he deserves to be let out."

"Us?" Ron said. "You can't be serious?"

"I'm deadly serious, Ron, " Hermione said. "He's been down here too long. It's a miracle that he's still alive! We have to help him."

"Let's ask Dumbledore," Harry said. "We can go back out and get him."

"No," Hermione said. "Can you honestly tell me you could find your way back here if we leave? The tunnels were like a maze. Besides, he'd just have to come back down here again, and I would have to come back with him."

"Dumbledore?" The man asked. "Is he still at Hogwarts?"

"You know him?" Ron asked.

"No, we've never met," the man said. "But someone I didn't much care for was complaining about him, once. A visitor I had, some time ago."

"Let's put it to a vote, Ron," Hermione said. "I say let him go."

"Me, too," Harry said. "Anyone who's had to put up with that sort of treatment from his own father doesn't deserve to have it keep going on."

"I still don't like it," Ron said. He looked at the man, "Nothing personal, we just seem to always be running into complete psychopaths."

"Yes, but most of them are faculty," Harry said.

The man cleared his throat. "I won't live much longer, if you leave me here now, but I suppose now would be a bad time to admit that I was a Hogwarts Potions Professor?"

Ron groaned. "Yes, that's probably about the worst thing you could have admitted."

"It's not like he said he taught Dark Arts, Ron," Harry said. "What do we have to do Hermione?"

"We have to cut ourselves, and let the blood drip into the fire," she said. She pulled out a nail file with a sharp point at the end. "This is all I have. Does anyone have anything better?"

"I saw some swords in with the corpses," Ron said. "They're probably sharper than that."

"I wouldn't go back in there," the man said. "I'm not sure that all of them are sleeping as soundly as they should."

"On that cheery note, hand me the nail file," Ron said, holding his hand out to Hermione. He pierced a finger-tip, and let a drop of blood fall into the fire, which turned green. Then he tossed the file to Harry.

Harry looked at the file oddly. "I hope this works out better than the last time I had to use my blood for something." He gingerly poked at his finger until he got a drop of blood out and into the fire. It turned purple. He tossed the file back to Hermione.

She resolutely poked herself in her ring finger, near the nail, where the skin was tender. Blood welled, and she choked back an involuntary tear, before tossing the blood into the fire. It went out, plunging them into darkness.

With their wands alight, the trio made their way back to the surface, the man following behind them. He seemed awed by the fact that he could finally leave his prison. Finally, they made their way back to the Basilisk chamber.

The man cried out when he saw the remains of the Basilisk. "Spot? Is that you?"

"Spot?" Harry asked, shaking his head. "That's the Basilisk that was trapped here in the Chamber of Secrets. You must be thinking of something else."

"I know," the man said. "It had been many years since I'd seen him. I suppose that father managed to turn him into a beast of hatred, but when he was first hatched, he was quite affectionate."

Hermione stared at him. So did Ron. Hermione spoke first. "Your father?"

Ron chimed in, "He named his Basilisk 'Spot'?"

"Father was never very good at names," the man said. "After all, he named me Hermann."

"Hermann Slytherin?" she asked. He nodded, biting his lip apprehensively.

Hermione groaned.

"I'm not surprised you feel that way," Hermann said defensively.

She shook her head. "That's not it. I'm thinking of what Luna's going to say when she finds out. We all thought you were a myth, but she's been insisting you existed all along. I'll never hear the end of it."

Ron scratched his head, "Do you suppose that means she was right about the Dark House Elves? They don't really exist, do they?"

Hermann shuddered. "Don't even talk about them. They'll bite your face right off." Hermione thought he was kidding, but she wasn't quite sure.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N - Name those monkeys! My twins have a pair of adorable stuffed monkeys, which as of yet have not been named. Fred and George are already taken, and Crabbe and Goyle would be insulting to the monkeys (besides, I believe the two are more properly apes than monkeys.) I was considering calling one of them Ook, after a certain orangutan, but since Ook would feel obligated to beat up anyone who called him a monkey, that might not be a good idea. So, if you have any good ideas, let me know.

By the way, if you're like me (i.e., a geek), you're wondering why Hermann could speak/understand something close to modern English. The answer is that he's been visited more often than you might think.

As to how a basilisk could possibly be affectionate -- they're always up for games of Marco Polo or Blind Man's Buff, and they're positively wicked at pin the tail on the dragon. Plus, like cats, they're always leaving presents for you - their presents tend to be petrified instead of dead, which is arguably a plus. As long as they aren't anyone you know.


	13. Did I Miss Something?

**Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor**

**Chapter Thirteen - Did I Miss Something?**

"Every once in a while, declare peace. It confuses the hell out of your enemies."

-- Ferengi Rules of Acquisition, Rule #76

"I'm not going to pound him into the ground," Ron said.

"Are you sure?" Hermione was confused. Ron hadn't confronted the issue of Draco's rumor-mongering himself before they went into the Chamber, and she was afraid that he was going to overreact.

"Of course I'm sure," Ron said. "You already did a great job of paying him back with those buttons. Hitting Malfoy squarely in his pride - I don't think breaking his nose would be any worse. Besides, I'll be too busy with this for a while." He gestured at the dusty trophies, which he was still in the process of cleaning. "You should probably get back to the floor, before Filch comes back to check on us."

While Dumbledore had been ecstatic at the discovery of Hermann Slytherin, Professor McGonagall had been horrified at the irresponsibility of the three. Snape had been his usual surly self, although he seemed even worse than usual. Hermione thought it was probably the challenge to his ego that Hermann represented, since he had also been a Hogwarts' Potion Professor.

Hermione wasn't sure what the other students thought. She had spent almost every spare moment since their spelunking expedition in detention, either cleaning something or helping to guard Fleur Delacour, and hadn't seen anyone else. That meant that she hadn't had to face Luna Lovegood yet.

Hermione used the small, hard brush to work at getting the grime off of the floor. The one saving grace of Hermione's current work was, ironically, also a point of contention between her and her parents. As few in the wizarding world had ever seen a toothbrush, Filch had never conceived of asking a student to clean with one. She wondered how Filch managed to make the trophy room so disagreeably filthy on a regular basis. No one much came in the room. It wasn't as if any students who weren't on detention particularly cared about the trophies on the wall. Despite the importance that Hermione placed on the history of Hogwarts, even she couldn't find that much excitement for Wilbur Winchester, who won a prize for extraordinary cleanliness as a first year student back in 1936.

"You're sure that you aren't going to kill him?" Hermione asked again. "You'd certainly be expelled, you know."

"Hermione, I'm not going to kill him," Ron insisted. "The truth is, I feel sorry for him."

"What?" Hermione asked, stunned.

"I feel sorry for him. He's still a nasty git, but he's not really that important any more, is he?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there were only two things that made him all that important, the fact that he could call on his Father, and how much he hated Harry. He still hates Harry, but I'm not all that afraid that his Da is going to get my father fired anymore, or that he's going to get one of the good Professors fired."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Hermione said. She actually had thought of it that way, but she didn't think Ron had realized how much things had changed.

"You don't have to sound so surprised," Ron said. He continued in a whisper, "Look, we've already won against Draco, it's You Know Who we have to worry about." Despite Ron's newfound disdain for Draco Malfoy, it was clear that he still feared Voldemort.

"What do you think he's planning?" Hermione asked. "Harry hasn't had any more of those dreams since we rescued Hermann, has he?"

Ron shook his head. "I've checked him just about every night. Nothing."

Hermione looked up from her work. "You don't think he wanted us to let Hermann out, do you?"

Ron shrugged, "I'm not sure. I don't think there's any way to know, right now. What about Fleur? There's no news on her front, is there?"

"Nothing," Hermione confirmed. "The lock on her office was melted off by a potion last week, but no one seems to think it has to do with the knife-wielding maniac."

"I guess things are just quiet right now," Ron said, "other than the housecleaning, of course."

"Of course," Hermione said, but she was still lost in thought. She was still missing something elementary, she thought. She hoped that she would be able to find it before the end of term for a change.

Fleur Delacour fingered the hammer that sat on Professor Snape's desk. She was clearly nervous at her inclusion in the small council of war. Professor McGonagall sat on a comfortable chair that she had transfigured from an old caldron, her lips pursed and hands folded. Professor Dumbledore reclined on a chair near by, while Professor Snape stood across the room, his arms folded rigidly. He looked unhappy with Fleur. "Be careful with that," he said, sneering, "it's quite expensive. And besides," he smirked, "it's featured in a number of quite interesting prophecies."

"I would not have zought that you would put much faith in prophecies, Professor Snape," Fleur responded, still looking over the hammer. It had a long shaft and a huge head, with an ornate, runic "G" emblazoned on the business end. It was a war hammer, of the sort that Norse gods might have taken into battle, or at least used in the storms that had been battering the castle throughout the month of March.

"You would be quite right, Professor Delacour," Snape said, slurring her title as if it were an insult. "But I find that many smaller minds do not have a proper perspective on the meaning of prophecy."

Albus sighed, "Prophecy is, to some extent, what has brought us to this point. We all know, do we not, that He Who Must Not Be Named is featured in a number of prophecies beyond those that speak of his defeat at the hands of a Gryffindor?"

Snape snapped, "Poppycock. The product of such diviners is not something to be taken seriously."

Albus shook his head. "Professor Snape, I believe you underestimate both the power of prophecy and the power of belief in such prophecies. Many of the prophecies tracked by the Ministry are true and correct prophecies, and more than one is tied up in our present circumstances, even if only the one, which we will not speak of, directly addresses the demise of the Dark Lord. Even those that were not true, however, may cause great havoc."

Snape nodded, "I do not discount the power that superstition has on the weak-minded. I do not see why it brings us here, however."

A voice came out of the shadows. "I believe, I can help." Stepping out from beneath a cloak of invisibility, Hermann Slytherin surveyed the gathered Professors. He had been steadily putting on weight since his return, and where he had only weeks ago looked the part of a skeleton, he now was beginning to look pleasantly plump.

"Thank you for coming, Master Slytherin," Albus said with a wry grin. Although Fleur knew that he used the word 'Master' only as a polite honorarium, the words sent a shiver down her delicate spine. "You have reviewed the prophecies of which I speak?"

"I have," Hermann confirmed. "And, as you suspected, I believe they apply to the current times." Hermann passed out scrolls, with prepared notes. "Forgive the formality," he said, "but it's a habit of mine of old."

Fleur flipped through the prophecy, then looked up at Albus. "Forgeeve me, plees, for asking, but why am I involved? I am not part of the equation of He Who Must Not Be Named."

"I do not agree," Albus said, "All of us are part of that equation, whether we will it or not. But for you, with your Veela blood, it could be quite deadly."

Fleur protested. "The Veela are neutral in the matter of You Know Who."

"Certainly," Albus responded, good-naturedly, "but he is not neutral towards them, and in particular, he is decidedly unneutral in any question of those with mixed blood. Were you to come into his power, you would be in grave peril."

"I can stand a little peril," Fleur said haughtily.

"It may go beyond that," Hermann said. "Professor Valek believes that she has tied the attacks on you to a book that was missing from the library, and that she can also tie this book to the danger we were discussing."

"Which reminds me," Snape sneered, "Why isn't she here? Where is your precious pet Auror?"

Albus coughed, looking at him in warning. An Auror? Fleur had met many of the fearsome foes of evil, but she had never seen Valek before she started at Hogwarts. Fleur sensed a secret, but she had the decorum not to press her protectors at present, and pretended not to have heard. "What ees this danger?" Fleur demanded instead.

"The Amulet of Yendor," Albus stated.

"The Amulet is a myth," Fleur stated definitively. "It was to have been guarded by trials of the elements and by fearsome monsters. What does the Amulet have to do with Hogwarts?"

"It is right here," Hermann said, producing a necklace with a charm on it from his pocket. Fleur and McGonagall gasped. Albus smiled, slightly, while Snape's frown only deepened.

"You ask us to believe," the current Hogwarts potions instructor scowled, "that this trinket is a priceless artifact? Where did you get it?"

"I took it from my father," Hermann said simply, "nearly a thousand years ago. It has the power to extend life greatly."

"And he let you keep it?" Snape smirked. "A likely story, indeed."

"He had no choice," Hermann said. "He could have taken it from me, but he couldn't have used it for himself again. Each wearer may only benefit once from the Amulet. When Tom's pet rat took it off me, I lost its power. That is why I insisted that the children bring me to the surface immediately, rather than allowing them to discuss it at length with the proper authorities."

"Tom?" Fleur asked, confused. "Who ees this Tom?"

Albus cleared his throat. "One who, as a Hogwarts student, opened the Chamber of Secrets and delved into it deeply. He has not used the name 'Tom' in many years, however."

Fleur understood, and was sickened. "What does this have to do with the attacks on me? Surely, He Who Must Not Be Named cannot be bothered with the likes of me?"

"We don't know," Albus admitted. "What we do know is that Most Potente Potions was found recently, in the bathroom that is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. The ghost in residence, Myrtle, could not tell us why it was there. As you know, we found traces of several rare and difficult to make potions near the scenes of your attacks, potions whose recipes may only be found in that particular book. The inference is plain."

Fleur gasped. Her, a target of He Who Must Not Be Named? She could not believe it.

"I don't believe it, Professor," Snape sneered. "You Know Who is capricious, violent, and vilely prejudiced, but he is also single-minded of purpose. He normally limits himself to one plot at a time, so that he may remain focused. Why would he assault young Professor Delacour? If he had resources capable of assaulting people inside Hogwarts, why would he not attack those that actually posed a threat to him? Do not forget, the attacker had several students in his power that have actually posed a threat to him in the past."

"Perhaps," McGonagall said, "we should not leap to conclusions. Perhaps the potions were merely mixed in Myrtle's bathroom, and she was lured away. There is a precedent to using that bathroom to mix such potions, as you know, Albus, and we know that Myrtle often leaves her bathroom before and after Quidditch matches."

"She has team spirit?" Fleur asked, not having met Myrtle.

"No. She enjoys the locker rooms," Snape said, gritting his teeth. "This gets us nowhere. Albus, do you have anything to show that there is a connection between the incidents?"

"No," Albus said. "And Hermann disagrees with me on whether or not they do. I have difficulty believing that any of my students could plot open murder of a faculty member independently of some outside influence, however."

"Then, I may not be his target?" Fleur asked, confused.

"We are divided on this question," Albus said. "But, in any case, we must work to solve our problems together, and hope that solving one will solve many."

"Many questions? What other questions are there?" Fleur asked.

"Most, you should know about," Albus said. "There is one other concern that we have, however. We sent teams down into the Chamber to search it out after Hermann's rescue, and we have found little else of interest. But it appears that someone else had beaten us to it. Between the time that Hermann left, and we entered the Chamber, someone smashed several of the coffins in the crypt beyond his chamber. Many of Slytherin's powerful allies were interred there, and they may have had artifacts of their own."

"Not just his allies," Hermann said quietly. His eyes were focused on the floor, his dynamic demeanor temporarily diminished. "My father slept there, as well."

"Slept?" Fleur asked. "Do his remains not still reside there?"

"No," Hermann said. "They're missing."

-------

Author's Note -- The next chapter contains violence. You may think it's about time, but I thought I'd warn you anyway.


	14. The Chase, and Just Desserts

**Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor**

**Chapter Fourteen -- The Chase, and Just Desserts**

"The Enemy of my enemy is my enemy's enemy. No more. No less."   
Rule #29, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Pirates (Schlock Mercenary, an online comic)

Fleur Delaceour had a strange feeling in the small of her back. She felt like she was being watched, and not in the pleasant and only faintly repulsive way that she usually felt around young men. Fleur had been on edge most of the time lately, which wasn't surprising given the number of times that someone had tried to kill her.

She looked over her shoulder cautiously. She didn't see anyone there. Fleur sighed, cursing her overactive imagination, as well as the stranger who had been attacking her, and kept walking down the empty hallway towards the Divination tower.

Fleur listened to the sound of her footsteps. She thought she heard an echo, again. She turned around slowly, her hand in her pocket, wrapped firmly around her wand. She relaxed. "Mister Weasley, I didn't know you were back there. Is something wrong?"

Ron was smirking. He shook his head, but didn't say anything. He pointed towards an open classroom. Fleur felt a chill down the back of her neck. "Let's talk in my office, Mister Weasley."

He shook his head, and pulled out his wand. Fleur started to reach for her own, but he shook his head again. He walked slowly towards her, while Fleur stood still. She rubbed her arms; she had broken out in goose-bumps, but she didn't feel cold.

Ron pointed towards the classroom again, then leveled his wand at Fleur. His smile didn't look right. "You aren't Ron," she said, reaching for her own wand.

The false Weasley responded with a spell. His voice was clearly not Ron's, although she couldn't place it. "_Petrificus Totalus_!" he said firmly, and she fell to the ground. He levitated her off the ground, and towards a dark classroom.

The room had no windows, she noticed, although with her eyes frozen forward, she couldn't see much. It had wooden bookshelves and a cold stone floor, which he laid her on.

"Disgusting half-breed," her attacker said. "I can't believe they let filth like you teach here, at Hogwarts."

Fleur couldn't respond to him. She couldn't even see him well. He was pacing the room. "I wanted to do this differently," he said. "I was hoping to throw you from the highest tower, that would have been a just ending for what your kind did to my family."

_What are you talking about?_ Fleur wanted to ask. Her silence didn't matter, though. The wizard was explaining on his own. He was talking loudly, talking over a loud scratching sound in the background. She hoped that someone would hear him, and come to investigate. She knew that if they came in, though, they would likely believe that the attacker was protecting her.

"It took me a month to make this potion, you know, so I could fool you. A month, and I blew it by using the wrong hair. I had to start from scratch again! It was worth it, though, to get revenge for my mother's death. Do you know what your kind did to her?"

Her efforts to shake her head went unnoticed.

"They took my father from her, took him completely. He didn't have the strength to resist them, disgusting French Veela. He sent her a letter to tell her, told her that he hated her, that he couldn't stand her anymore. That's why she decided to end it."

Fleur recognized the voice. She couldn't make a sound, though, to call Alvin Lyesmith by his name.

He was almost shouting, now, over the loud sound in the background. "You're going to pay! All of you! I knew there was a purpose in your being here, for me to practice on. I'm going to wipe all of your kind from the Earth." He looked determined, staring at her petrified body. He pulled out his wand, and she knew he was going to form the Death Curse. A flash of green light, and it would be over.

He started to say the words, but the sound had become almost deafening. He looked around, "What is that noise, anyway? I hadn't imagined my moment of triumph would be quite so loud."

One of the bookshelves on the wall began to shake. The books were vibrating, starting to slide off the shelf. He walked over, Fleur barely seeing him out of a corner of her eye. She could almost feel her fingers beginning to thaw out. He hadn't put enough force into the spell, and she might be able to shake it off, if he didn't notice first.

He stared at the shelf, trying to figure out what was wrong. A book fell off the top shelf, and he caught it. He laughed as he stared at the cover, "A Recipe Book for Puddings? I expected something more profound."

The bookshelf suddenly splintered, as something crashed through it from behind. A skeletal man stood there, wearing the rotten remains of Wizardly robes. He had a crude sickle in each hand. His eyes glowed a dull red. Some flesh still remained on him, but she could see that his tongue had long rotted away. It spoke anyway, saying in a raspy voice, "Gryffindor! Your death is here." Fleur dearly wished that she could close her eyes.

Alvin had fallen back under the onslaught, but now he rose to his feet. "What are you?" he asked.

"You can't deny that you know me, Gryffindor," the thing said. It stepped towards him. "Even without your armor, I recognize you!"

Alvin backed up against the far wall, his wand shaking. "I'm not who you think I am!" he said.

That seemed to give the thing pause. "I...I'm not sure." It looked him up and down. Its hands started to lower, as if it were standing down. Alvin turned towards the door, and ran. He didn't make it.

"Gryffindor!" the thing rasped again, its mouth opening far more than it should have been able to, and it flung one of its sickles at him. Alvin was outside Fleur's sight, but she heard the thud when the sickle hit, and the thump when his body fell to the ground.

The thing slowly walked towards Alvin's body, ignoring Fleur entirely. Its slow, methodical steps were a kind of torture all their own, the sound of inevitability.

It retrieved its sickle. She could hear it being wiped clean. Then it howled. "Gryffindor! You can't fool me! I know you're still out there."

It opened the door to the hallway, then shut it quickly. "Students," it said, "young, cheerful students. Some may be mine." With slow footsteps, it walked back towards the hole in the bookshelf. "Later," it said, "I have waited long, but I can wait longer."

Fleur heard its slow, steady walk for what seemed like eternity, until a loud, shrill scream drowned it out.

The school was abuzz with the news. Pavarti Patil had stepped in Alvin Lyesmith's blood, where it had leaked out the door. Fleur was still alive, if shaken, but she had tendered her resignation.

For all of the news flowing throughout the school, there was one question that every student had that had not been answered -- would there still be examinations over the next few months?

Hermione was less worried about this question than her peers, she knew. Even though she wished that she had more time to study, she found that there was more than school to worry about.

"Ron," she said softly, ignoring the other students in the Gryffindor common room. "Do you think it was chasing you?"

Ron shrugged. "It might have been."

"You don't seem too concerned," Hermione said.

"I shouldn't have to be concerned," Ron said. "We got the thing that Wormtail was looking for, and Harry's not having dreams any more. Whatever this thing is, I don't think it's from You Know Who. He's the one we have to worry about."

"Are you still practicing with Blaise?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Ron said. He looked down, and his eyes shifted. Ron changed the subject, "Do you think Valek has anything to do with it?"

"Just because she's a Dark Arts teacher doesn't mean she's out to get us," Hermione said. "She's been the best DADA teacher we've had since Moody."

"That's not saying much," Ron said, "given that Umbridge is the only other teacher we've had since Moody, and he wasn't really Moody."

"She's still pretty good," Hermione said. "I've learned loads more about dueling from her, although..."

"Yes?" Ron asked, eagerly.

"I'm not sure any of it's going to be on the NEWTs," she said, "and that's what we need to worry about. They're just around the corner, Ron, and we're falling behind in our studies."

"Don't worry, Hermione, I know you'll do well."

"You need to do well, too, Ron, if you really want to become an Auror."

"I know, Hermione," he said. "If you put together a study plan for us, I'll follow it."

"What about Harry?"

"I'll ask him," Ron said, "but I don't think we'll get him interested. He's spending far too much time with Ginny for his own good."

"Spending time with someone he cares about won't hurt him," Hermione argued.

"It will if I have to put his lights out," Ron said reasonably.

Hermione giggled. The other students in the common room stared at her. Hermione realized that she didn't giggle very often.

The painting swung open, and Lavender rushed up. She looked about the common room, then locked eyes with Hermione. She ran up to Hermione and Ron. "You haven't heard about Dennis yet, have you?"

"No, what happened?" Hermione asked. Ron was stuffing books into his bag, checking his pockets for his wand and baton.

"He was attacked. Something came right through the wall and swung a blade at him."

"Is he all right?" Ron asked.

"You'll never believe this," Lavender gushed, "but Malfoy saved him."

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked skeptically. She couldn't believe that he'd save a Gryffindor if his life depended on it.

Lavender nodded, though. "He was walking through the hallway nearby. He ran over and put himself between the thing and Dennis, and it stopped attacking, and fled. Malfoy says it was afraid of him."

"More likely it was his friend," Hermione growled.

"You know, that would have been my line, a few years ago," Ron said. "Let's drop it, all right? If Malfoy was controlling this thing, he wouldn't have let it attack Lyesmith. Lyesmith was towing the Dark Lord's party line, whether he knew it or not."

"Maybe he's not controlling it," Lavender supplied. "Maybe it just recognized him."

"Why do you say that?" Hermione asked.

"Well," Lavender answered, "apparently it yelled something about 'bloody Gryffindors' before it attacked Dennis. If it was just after Gryffindors, it might not have wanted to attack Malfoy."

"Ron!" Harry shouted from the door. He had Ginny's hand clasped in his. She looked like she had been crying. They rushed over. "Thank goodness you're all right!"

"Why shouldn't I be?" Ron said, confused.

"You hadn't heard?" he said.

"About the attack on Dennis? I just heard about it," Ron said.

"Not that," Ginny said, choking. "About the note. Did you hear about the note?"

Ron shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, Gin."

Harry pulled something out of his pocket. "I got the picture from Colin," he said, "and rushed up here. The professors aren't letting anyone else near the scene."

There as a puddle of blood on the floor, probably Dennis'. There was also a photo, which Hermione recognized from one of the Quiddler's stories about Harry. A picture of his best friend. "That's you, Ron," she said, a shiver running up her spine.

"Then the note is also meant for me," Ron said, his voice dropping to a growl. Written in blood, beneath the picture, the note wasn't all that profound. But it got the point across.

"Godric Gryffindor," it read, "I am coming for you!"


	15. Not the End

**Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor**

**Chapter Fifteen -- Not the End**

A woman of generous character will sacrifice her life a thousand times over for her lover, but will break with him forever over a question of pride -- for the opening or the shutting of a door. -- Stendhal

"So," Ron asked Hermione, "did you ever hear what Alvin's problem with Fleur was?"

Hermione made an exasperated, choking sound. "Isn't it obvious?" They were walking together towards the dormitories for the night, behind a group of first years. Everyone was moving together in groups, although some of the students seemed to think they would be better off apart from Ron. His conclusion that the homicidal maniac who had killed Alvin -- also a homicidal maniac -- was now after him, was a conclusion reached by many of the other students. The term was almost over, and everyone just wanted to survive long enough to leave school.

"No, it's not obvious," Ron said, plainly irked. "I wouldn't have asked if it was obvious, would I?"

Hermione sighed. "Well, here's what we know. Fleur's half-Veela, right?"

"Right," Ron said, dreamily.

Hermione elbowed him. "Well, we also know that Alvin's father left their family, and his mother killed herself. And, according to Fleur, Alvin said something about 'her kind.'"

"You think there's a connection between what happened to his father, and what he blamed Fleur for? What could a Veela have done to his father, that would have made his mother so upset..." Ron trailed off.

"Do I have to draw you a picture?" Hermione asked. It was clear to her, at least, that Alvin's father had been seduced by a Veela, and his mother hadn't been able to stand it. The idea of losing one's life partner must have been crushing, especially when she couldn't even blame him for falling victim to the magic. His free will never really entered into it.

"I'd rather you not draw any pictures," Ron said. "I've seen what Alvin's family looked like. You could always demonstrate, though."

There was a titter of laughter from some of the first-years ahead, who apparently weren't too far ahead. Hermione elbowed Ron in the stomach. "Ron! Behave yourself."

"So," Ron asked, returning to the subject. "Does that mean that he didn't have anything to do with You Know Who?"

"Not that I know of," Hermione said. "Not every homicidal maniac works for him, you know. It's not like he's got a union."

"I didn't think he liked independent operators," Ron said.

"Probably not," Hermione confirmed, "but then, as long as Alvin didn't interfere directly in any of his plans, he might not even have noticed Alvin. I don't think it matters much anymore, though."

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"You've got something more important to worry about," Hermione said.

"What's that?" he asked innocently. He shoved his hands deep into his robe pockets, and looked down. Hermione suddenly felt very distant from him, as if a huge gulf had suddenly opened between them.

"You know," she said softly. "The thing that attacked Alvin, and Dennis Creevey. It had your picture."

"So, it has good taste," Ron said. He still wouldn't look at her. "There's no reason to believe that he's after me. Maybe he's after Harry."

"You say that like it would be good news," Hermione chided him.

"It might make him less self-absorbed. Ever since his dreams stopped, he doesn't have any focus. Harry's always at his best when someone's trying to kill him."

"Stop trying to change the subject," Hermione said. "That thing could be after you."

"It could," Ron acknowledged. He was silent for a moment, and then he looked over at her. "Stay out of it."

"What?" Hermione sputtered, indignantly.

"I mean it," he said. He faced forwards again, still walking behind the other Gryffindor.

"Ron, don't try to take it all on yourself. That's the kind of thing Harry would do."

"And he'd win, too," Ron agreed. "I'm ready for this. You have to let me face it alone."

"How can you be ready for it? Do you even know what it is?" Hermione asked. "Even McGonagall seems to be at a loss about it."

"I don't know," Ron said, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "I can't let you fight it, though. What it did to Alvin... I can't let it do that to you."

"Ron," Hermione said softly, trying to keep her temper under control, "does it _ever_ work when we try to do things alone? We need to work together on this." Her face was red, her fists clenched, and she hoped that Ron would see reason. Or, at least, that he would trust her.

"No," Ron said. "I don't want to lose you."

"The only way you're going to lose me, Ron, is if you try to tell me what to do," Hermione snapped. Apparently, her hopes were not to be. "I'll talk to you later, Ron." She stomped off, leaving him to guard the other students. It occurred to her as she did that she probably shouldn't be alone, but she couldn't stay civil with Ron much longer.

Ron called after her, but he stayed with the students. She was proud of him for that. She had to admit that Ron was brave, honorable, chivalrous, everything a Gryffindor was supposed to be. He just didn't seem to understand where people's boundaries were. Or at least, where her boundaries were. He would push her all the way to the line, and then cross it, without making any allowances for her feelings.

Maybe she was proud of him for that, too, she thought. He had always done what he thought was right, whether or not it was particularly safe or smart. She couldn't expect him to compromise that, just to make her feel better, could she? Especially when what he wanted in this case was just to keep her safe.

Hermione stopped in place, down in the dungeons, not far from Potions class, her eyes locked straight ahead. She would forgive him, she thought. But first, she'd have to make it back to the dormitory.

The creature was in front of her, and it looked angry.

Hermione pulled out her wand, and started racking her mind for a spell. The creature waited, its scythe ready. It conveyed impatience, although she wasn't sure how it could do that with so little flesh on its bones. "What are you waiting for?" Hermione asked. She realized that she could have been run through at least three times by now.

"I wait for you," the skeletal creature rasped. The sound of bone on bone, as its jaw moved, set her teeth on edge. She smelled something moldy, something earthy, even over the usual scent of the dungeons. "Show me what he has taught you, Gryffindor."

"He? He who?" Hermione asked in return. She should be running, she knew, but she had the feeling that no matter how fast she ran, she would find him right behind her. There were certain rules, after all, for surviving a semester at Hogwarts, and one of them was that running wasn't generally successful.

The thing barked back, its jaw grinding as it spoke. "The Gryffindor!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione said.

The thing seemed taken aback. It cocked its head slightly. Something rattled inside its skull as it moved. Then it seemed to decide. "Die, Gryffindor!" It appeared that the thing's remaining brains couldn't handle confusion very well. It ran at her with a scythe, cutting the conversation short.

"Incendio!" Hermione shouted. The darkened rags that wrapped its form smoldered briefly, but the fire went out.

The skull laughed. "No magic spell can hurt me. Do you hear that, Gryffindor? No spell!"

Hermione ran. She heard the thing shambling behind her, somehow keeping pace despite the speed at which she was sprinting. She lept up the stairs, two at a time, but saw the staircases beginning to shift on the floors above. She would be trapped. Hermione lunged down the second floor hallway, banging her knee as she tripped on the top stair. She stood quickly, and risked a look behind her -- the thing was still following her.

Up ahead, Hermione heard a loud wailing noise. Myrtle's bathroom, she thought. Hermione ran towards it. The door of the bathroom flew open, and Hermione saw a shape standing in the doorway, wailing. _Sorry, Myrtle_, she thought, as she tried to run right through the shape. Moving through a ghost was unpleasant, but standing still would be even more so.

Hermione collided painfully with the shape, and she quickly realized that it wasn't Myrtle, as they both fell to the floor. Instead, she had run into a very wet, very frightened, Jalaja. "What are you doing here?" Hermione asked.

Jalaja sputtered back, "What do you mean, what am I doing here? What are you doing? Aren't you supposed to be babysitting some first year students?"

"I'm running from him," Hermione said, gesturing behind her. She was afraid to look, but Jalaja did it for her.

"From him?" Jalaja said, her eyes going very wide. "Why on earth would you be running from him?"

Hermione turned around. Albus Dumbledore stood there, smiling beneficently. His eyes twinkled. "Miss Granger, is everything quite all right?"

"The undead thing, the creature, it was just there!" Hermione stammered.

"Of course it was," Albus said, nodding his head. "But it isn't now. Why don't you both run back to your dormitories, before someone is forced to deduct points from House Gryffindor?"

"Thank you, Headmaster," Hermione said. She helped Jalaja back up to her feet, but Jalaja pulled her arm away. They walked back up to the dormitory. Jalaja was silent, which was unusual for her, but it was a sullen, pregnant silence, which robbed the joy of it away from Hermione.

The warm, comfortable feeling of the common room was a breath of fresh air, banishing her fear. Jalaja and Hermione moved apart from each other the instant they entered the common room. Clearly, Jalaja didn't want to talk about what she had been up to with Hermione. That was fine with her; Hermione didn't want to talk about why she had been alone, either.

Ron was in the common room, sitting in front of the fireplace. She was happy to see that he was still awake and down here, but not terribly happy about his company. He was sitting on the sofa next to Lavender, and they seemed to be having fun. Hermione tried to ignore him as loudly as possible, stomping her feet and keeping her nose up in the air, but he didn't seem to notice. Harry and Ginny were also seated near the fireplace, arms around each others' shoulders, and they seemed locked in conversation.

Hermione couldn't come up with a logical reason to be angry with Ron. Maybe he had even been right, she thought, to be worried. She didn't like where that line of thought led, though. Feeling defeated on all counts, Hermione went up to sleep.

The next morning may have been the start of a brand new day, but for Hermione, it was more like the continuation of a sleepless night. Her sleep had been interrupted by dreams of the smiling skull behind her. She was sure that there was some key that she could find, some secret to defeating it, but no ideas had come to mind. She came downstairs to the common room.

She knew that she must have looked a fright. Pavarti Patil's eyes grew wide as Hermione walked past, and Vicky Frobisher snickered. Ron was sitting on a chair with a view of the stairs to the girls' dormitory. His eyes lit up when he saw her. Hermione smiled inside. Even if all of the Gryffindor young women rolled their eyes, at least she could count on Ron. She walked up to him, determined to give him another chance to make up for yesterday.

"What happened to you?" He asked when she walked up. "It looks like your hair had a fight with a Blast-Ended Snitch and lost."

Pavarti and Vicky both laughed out loud. Hermione ground her teeth together. "Thanks, Ron. Good morning to you, too."

"I was worried," he said blithely, "I didn't see you come in last night."

"That's because you were too busy talking to Lavender," Hermione snapped back. She softened her voice, "I ran into the thing last night. The dead thing that's after you."

Ron stepped forward, wrapping her in his arms. "Are you all right?"

She let him hold her briefly, before she stepped backwards. "I'm fine."

"I told you to leave it to me," Ron said. He sounded as if it were her fault that there was something evil roaming the halls. "You could have been killed! Besides, you weren't supposed to be outside the Common Room alone. Did you get in trouble?"

Hermione was shaken by his words. They were echoes of her protests from first year. She responded defensively, "Not really."

"I want you to promise me that you won't fight that thing," Ron said.

"Don't you have any faith in me at all?" Hermione asked.

"It's not that, Hermione, really it's not. I just don't want you to fight him and lose," Ron said.

She shook her head, and walked towards the door. Ron said her name, but she ignored him.

Hermione walked quickly down the stairs, taking them a few at a time. Her hair swung wildly behind her as she walked, her right hand gliding along the stair rail.

Her first class of the day, Potions, wasn't for a few hours. Hermione marched in the general direction of the library, looking straight ahead but not making eye contact with anyone. Her eyes were vacant, but her mind, behind them, was active.

She rounded the corner abruptly, almost colliding with Draco Malfoy. He smirked. "Hair getting in your way, Granger?"

"Bugger off, Malfoy," she swore, suprising both herself and him. "I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now."

"I'm not surprised," he said, "I heard about your little spat with Weasley. I have to say, after all that you've been through, I didn't think you'd let him get to you this way."

"It's none of your business," Hermione said haughtily. She lifted her chin, nose high in the air, and sidestepped, trying to walk around him.

"I think it is," Malfoy said. "I wanted to know why you'd suddenly decided to let Weasel boy order you around. You never seemed to listen when I did it."

"He's worth ten of you," she snapped.

"I'm not surprised that's your opinion," Malfoy replied. "I'm surprised that you seem to think he's worth more than you, though."

"What makes you say that?"

"If you thought he was wrong, you'd just ignore him, and do what you wanted to do anyway," Malfoy said assuredly.

"You think it's just that easy?" Hermione scoffed.

"Based on past experience," Malfoy drawled, "I'd say that you have no problem ignoring someone when you don't think they're right. Or is it that you think Weaselbee has a point?"

"Stop that," Hermione said, absent-mindedly. "Of course he's not right. We have to face this thing together as a team, or it will overcome us."

"Tell him that, not me," Malfoy said. He turned around, and began to walk away.

"Wait," Hermione commanded. She tilted her head inquisitively. "This is the first conversation I've had with you where you haven't insulted me."

He turned around, "I'm sorry for the lapse. I assure you, it won't happen again."

"Where are Tweedledee and Tweedledum?" Hermione asked. She was looking over him carefully. There had been a few too many polyjuice users around lately. This didn't sound like Malfoy.

"Crabbe and Goyle?" he smirked. "Does that make me Humpty Dumpty?"

"More like the Cheshire Cat," she replied. "You're always smiling at the wrong time."

He nodded his acceptance of her comment, replying, "My shadows are both in remedial Charms class."

Hermione stifled a laugh with her hand. "Remedial Charms? For them? Isn't that a little hopeless? If there is anyone else more lacking in Charm, I'm not sure who it is."

"I like to think there's a certain balance to things," Draco preened, turning his head to present his smiling profile. "They're around to counter my natural good looks."

Hermione's doubts about Malfoy vanished. No one could out-preen a Malfoy, no matter what potion they drank. "One question, then," she said, smiling, "who balances out that cocky attitude of yours? There has to be someone, somewhere, with zero faith in themself."

"You're right," Draco said seriously. He turned away again, and walked away. Over his shoulder, he called, "I was just talking to her."


	16. This Isn't It Either

**Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor**

Chapter Sixteen -- This Isn't It Either

"More than any time in history, mankind now faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness, the other to total extinction. Let us pray that we have the wisdom to choose correctly." -- Woody Allen, "Side Effects"

Luna looked nervous about something, Hermione thought. They were sitting across the table from each other in the library, both studying for their Dark Arts papers. Hermione had chosen to elaborate on some of the older forms of magic, magics that had existed before the current methods of spell casting became popular.

The current form of magic was something some authorities called evocation - words were used to evoke the power that was there just barely within reach of wizards and witches. Evocation was one of the most predictable forms of magic. Divination was widely believed to be the second most predictable, in that it mostly didn't work, but there were also other magics out there.

Something that Professor Valek had said in class had brought up the idea for Hermione, and she had picked it for her paper topic. She had another motive for reading about it, though. She hoped that something she would read would give her some idea of how to defeat the Very Bad Dead Thing that was still stalking the hallways. Evocation magic had been tried, and had failed.

The Thing seemed to only confront Gryffindors, which might have explained why so few parents had tried to get the school closed. The students, brave by nature, weren't suggesting it yet or suggesting to their parents that it would be a good idea to pull them out. Two other students had been injured, although neither seriously. It was only a matter of time, though, before something worse would happen.

Hermione found that most of the other kinds of magic that were out there weren't taught for a reason. As much as Hermione loathed Divination, Invocation was worse. It involved making a pact with something more powerful than yourself, in order to gain some advantage. Even He Who Must Not Be Named hadn't been stupid enough to go down this route yet.

Invocation, she discovered, had been all the rage in the years before Hogwarts. While it nearly always wound up wrong, the power that could be unleashed was astounding. Tales of a witch named Lina spoke of leveling whole towns, often by accident. Hermione wondered if there was something she could tap into with that much raw power, that wouldn't destroy Hogwarts or end up with her in the Hospital Ward. Her studies hadn't found anything yet.

Other forms of power seemed even less promising. Caballism required knowing the thing's true name, and she didn't even have a good nickname for it yet. Elementalism required the proper natural environment, and the UK wasn't exactly spotted with volcanoes or geysers. She might be able to cover him with rain clouds, but that was the extent of it.

She finally ran across something that could be useful. "Listen to this, Luna," she said, not looking up to see if the rather dreamy student was listening or not. "Rune magic draws its power from symbols. It has historically been used to animate objects or create enchanted items, and is sometimes capable of interacting with things not wholly of this world in a way that evocation fails to do."

"That's probably what the Dark House Elves use," Luna said solemnly. "I've heard that they can steal stockings, or at least one out of every pair, no matter how carefully they're warded. They even go after Muggles."

"I'm worried about a different kind of 'stalking' here," Hermione remarked, still looking down at her book. "I wonder if Rune Magic could have anything to do with why the thing seems to ignore spells that are thrown at it."

"What are you talking about?" Ron's voice came from behind her. "I thought you were going to stop worrying about the bloody dead evil thing."

"That's Very Bad Dead Thing," Luna corrected, softly. "Father's already taken out a trademark on it. You wouldn't want to confuse people about its name. The Bloody Dead Evil Thing was what struck last summer, in Brighton."

"Whatever," Ron said. "You're supposed to stop worrying about this thing, all right?"

"Not a chance," Hermione said firmly, turning in her seat to meet his eyes. "I'm not going to go looking for it, but I can't just stop worrying about it."

"Why not?" Ron snapped back. "No one else seems to be obsessed by it." He gestured around. The students he pointed to included a pair of Slytherins, who seemed amused, and four young Gryffindors, all of whom had large wooden sticks next to them. Hermione thought she could see the outlines of something beneath one of their robes – something that looked remarkably like the outlines of American Football pads. She forebore commenting on that, however.

"Ron," Hermione said, "We've discussed this before. You are not to tell me what to do or what not to do. Is that understood?" As the words slipped out, she realized that her tone was entirely too reminiscent of McGonagall talking to Harry. It was clear from the look on Ron's face that he had seen the parallel, as well.

"I'm merely explaining the boundaries within which we have to operate," Ron said stubbornly. "If you can't see it…"

"Boundaries?" Hermione arched an eyebrow. "I don't recall having agreed to any boundaries."

"Well, you'll have to agree now," Ron said.

Hermione shot a glance over towards the Librarian's desk, where she'd seen some movement. Madam Pince was looking at them, and she looked unhappy. "Look, Ron, we'll have to discuss this later. I have too much work to do on my paper."

"Of course," Ron said sarcastically, "on your _paper_. We both know that's not what this is about."

Madam Pince had gotten up from her desk, and was walking straight towards Ron.

"Ron," Hermione whispered, "I can't afford to get in any more trouble with Pince. Please, just leave."

"If that's what you want," Ron said, "you'll get it." He turned melodramatically, his robes flowing out behind him, and walked towards the door, nodding respectfully to Pince on his way out.

Ron didn't bother her for the rest of the day, but Hermione got little studying done. She managed to find references to a book of runes that drew on the power of a dragon, or possibly that were meant to be used to contain dragons, but she couldn't keep her mind on the work. When Madam Pince shooed them out of the library for dinner, she was almost relieved. She hoped that Ron would talk to her reasonably.

Her hopes were dashed, however. Ron merely pulled a few pieces of food off the table, and then left. He didn't talk to her at all.

They spent the next day ignoring each other as obviously as possible. They walked close to each other, almost brushing up against each other, studiously not turning their heads to face each other, while they looked out of the corners of their eyes. Hermione returned to the library, and was amused to see Ron stop by at least four times, each time walking past the table where she was reading. Her own visit to the Quidditch Patch was, of course, completely different and innocent.

Despite the distractions, Hermione made some small progress on her paper. She found more references to something called the Dragoj Artos, also known as the Dragon Book. From her reading, it didn't sound like it had much to do with actual dragons. Apparently, the book was an effort to make runic magic practical. Runic magic was similar to evocation, but it evoked the power in words, symbols, and ideas. It was primitive, but it held raw power. It sounded like the Dragon Book was an attempt to tie these primitive powers together into something more powerful. The idea sounded intriguing, but there wasn't a copy of it in the library.

Madam Pince kept one eye on her constantly, glaring as if Hermione had become one of those children, typically first-years, who could not be trusted around her delicate treasures. Hermione scowled at the thought. One first year student from Hufflepuff had spent several minutes convinced that he was a raven after Madam Pince caught him tearing a recipe out of one of the books last year. As the librarian had not actually changed the shape of the poor student, nor directed his actions, she had not been reprimanded by anyone for her actions. The Hufflepuff student had returned to normal soon enough, or so it seemed, but he had gained an uncanny hunger for small, round objects, eating all of the raisins out of the rice pudding whenever he got the chance.

The more Hermione read about the power that the Dragon Book held, the more exciting it sounded. She tried asking the Ancient Runes professor, but he merely pursed his lips and shook his head. Madam Pince primly told Hermione that the books that Hogwart's held were all that she would ever need, and that if she did not see a book listed in the catalog, it was not one that she should concern herself with. Something in her phrasing bothered Hermione, but that was a minor mystery compared to the others she faced. A minor mystery, and one quickly cleared up by an unusual source.

While she was flipping through a book, chasing a reference to someone who had owned the Dragon Book before, she found a small envelope, addressed to her. Hermione started to tear it open, but looking at Pince, she decided that making a tearing sound in Pince's presence might be unwise, unless she wished to begin standing on skulls and preening. She pocketed the envelope instead, and closed the book carefully, returning it to its shelf.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione opened the envelope. "Second place again, Granger," the note read, in Malfoy's crisp hand. "I think we're both looking for the same thing, but you seem to be reading all the books I've already read. Give it up. There's only one copy of the Dragon Book, and Pince will never let you have it. It's in the restricted section. You don't want it anyway, Granger. If you use it, you'll never leave Hogwarts alive."

Madam Pince had a copy of the Dragon Book? That would make sense. The library at Hogwarts was among the best around, and magic that centered on writing would naturally have ended up here. Madam Pince was an expert at finding rare and informative books, and if she knew the Book existed, she would have wanted to have it there.

Malfoy's warning gave her pause, though. If there was one thing Malfoy would be an expert in, it was twisted, evil magic. And fear. All right, among the things a Malfoy would know were twisted, evil magic, fear and treachery. He could be trying to manipulate her, to scare her off, but even he wasn't stupid enough to think his threat would work, unless it wasn't a threat. If he was honestly warning her, or at least taunting her with the knowledge that he had discovered a danger that she was unaware of, she might have to take that at face value.

At the least, it gave her something to think about. She threw herself back into the books, this time looking for a clue as to any dangers she might have missed. Now that Ron was avoiding her, she felt free to spend even more time in the library or hunched over a pile of books in the common room. She even sent away for a few more books, at her own expense. There was something important here, something that she could taste.

Ron was avoiding her. She had skipped past that thought to the conclusion that she was free to spend more time alone, but at night, when her eyes were too tired to focus on a book anymore, it kept her awake. When she was stuck in an occasional boring lecture, she'd look across to him and wonder if it weren't for the best.

She was dimly aware that others were talking about her and Ron, but she refused to dwell on it. There were more important things to worry about, things like Voldemort, scientific discovery, and the undead creature that was roaming the hallways. She told herself that if Ron was that much of a git, he could wait until he was ready to apologize. She didn't need him. She almost believed it.

"Hermione," Luna asked her one evening, as she was wolfing down her supper, "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Of course I don't mind, Luna," Hermione said untruthfully, although she was privately afraid that she would end up being regaled with more tales of dark house elves, or of American wizards that flew through the air wearing capes and tights.

"Is there something wrong between you and Ron?"

Hermione almost insulted her grasp of the obvious, but then realized that for Luna, this was a breakthrough statement. She lowered her eyes. "You could say that," Hermione said.

"It's not over, is it?" Luna asked. "I thought the two of you were soul mates."

"I don't know if I would have used that word," Hermione said. She carefully kept her romantic notions locked up, not allowing such words as soul mate to be voiced even in her mind, no matter how wistfully a part of her longed for that type of relationship.

"That's too bad," Luna said. "So, has Ron already moved on?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I haven't paid much attention." Other than watching him as he ate, practiced Quidditch, and went from class to class, that is.

"So, he might be available?" Luna asked, with a sort of pensive smile.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You're kidding, right?"

"Well, there is going to be an end of semester dance, assuming the school isn't closed and we're not all in the infirmary, and I thought if you weren't going to ask him, I might."

"You're going to ask him to the dance?"

"Yes."

"To the dance?"

Luna looked her straight in the eyes, and talked very, very slowly. "Yes…I…would…like…to… take…him ….to…the…dance. Are…. You….out… of… phase…. With… reality?"

Hermione shook her head. "I just didn't think he would end up going with anyone else, is all. "

"Well, are you through, or aren't you? If you're not, you might want to let him know that."

Hermione looked over at Ron, and he looked back. His face looked drawn, and he looked more tired than anything. When they had fights before, he usually looked angry. This time, he just looked in pain. She wasn't sure how to make it better, though.

"If you want him back," Luna said, "You should tell him."

"It's not that simple," Hermione said.

"Not everything needs a fifty foot scroll, Hermione," Luna chided gently.

Hermione thought about that, and thought back to the first time Ron had asked her out, in his own clumsy way. It had been more hurtful than anything at the time, when she would have loved for him to have asked her out with some feeling. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and walked over to Ron.

"I was thinking, Weasley. How about it? The dance I mean. How about you and me go together."

Ron opened his mouth, and then shut it. "Okay," he said, "let's do that. Do you want to sit down? I'm sure you have a lot of work to do."

"I do," Hermione said, "but I'd love to sit with you for a while." She sat down next to him, and held his hand. She didn't say much of anything, and neither did he, but something had changed, or had at least started to change, for the better. She was totally ignorant of anyone around her, and didn't even notice Ginny winking at Luna.

Hermione stayed away from the library for a whole day. She only returned because Ron had Quidditch practice. When she returned, she saw Malfoy sitting next to a collection of books, all of which were open in front of him. He stood up, and left, leaving all of the books open. Before Pince could pounce on the books, Hermione walked over and looked at them.

Each of the books seemed to have a small passage about a different wizard, although they were an eclectic collection of genres. Historical fiction, biographical, little notes about the author of a particular charm, all they obviously had in common was that all of them had been associated with a school or library. That, and they'd all died well before their time.

She frowned, and scanned the names again. Heironeous Horos, a Wizard in Greece, had been a connoisseur of rare books, and was given credit for having kept many mundane books safe through the dark ages by building a secret library. She'd heard his name before, in connection with the dragon book – but apparently, he died after giving control of the library to a relative. He had briefly lived in a sanitarium, screaming his head off, before his passing.

Ursela Ullman, of Ullster, had been made the heroine of a particularly raunchy period book. She had been a faculty member at Hogwarts until an affair with the librarian went bad, or so the novel said. She died, apparently of a broken heart, after losing her job at the school.

They weren't the only ones with similar stories, she saw. She quickly wrote down their names, and anything else that looked useful. While the Dragon Book wasn't mentioned by name, some of the stories did mention experiments or focuses of the various wizards and witches. She kept notes, and more patterns began to emerge. She started making a list of the various plants and objects that were mentioned. If many of the witches had studied mollusks, perhaps they were important to the Dragon Book rituals. If some of the wizards had brought clay from the middle-east, perhaps that was another hint. She wasn't sure if she wanted to pursue the Book, given that it seemed to lead mostly to very bad things. However, she didn't feel that she had much of a choice. Hermione couldn't stop pursuing her quarry, once she had started hunting a new piece of knowledge, and this was no exception.

Unfortunately, Hermione was not the only relentless hunter at Hogwarts.


	17. The Stunning Conclusion, Part One

**Hermione Granger and the Amulet of Yendor**

Chapter Seventeen - The Stunning Conclusion (Part One)

You plan to use the dead in military actions by having them assault the enemy with gut-wrenching puns? This is even more insidious than I thought!

--Qwirky Waltons (Sluggy Freelance)

It was a crisp sprint evening at Hogwarts. The air was cool and clear. Hermione stood on the battlements, looking out at the reflection of the moon on the water. The night was unusually quiet.

Hermione frowned and tugged at her lower lip. It was never this quiet at Hogwarts. She strained her ears, and was rewarded by a faint sound. She heard the faint pounding of footsteps coming closer, and closer. She turned and started walking towards the staircase. A pair of Ravenclaws burst up the stairs. They ran straight past her, not even looking at her. They ran past Hermione to the next staircase, and ran down across the way. Hermione opened her mouth to shout after them, when she heard more footsteps coming from the stairs.

A first year Hufflepuff pounded up the stairs. He was pudgy, his cheeks swelled with fat that would probably burn off in his teenage years, if he lived that long. He saw her, and ran up to her. He puffed, trying to talk, and finally choked out. "Run! It's coming!" Then he dropped her arm, and kept running towards the next staircase, where the Ravenclaws had gone.

Hermione looked at him, and then started running. She didn't run after the fleeing students, though. She fled towards the near staircase, where they had come from. If something was there, attacking other students, it was her duty as a Gryffindor to find them. "Gryffindor," she screamed, and she plunged down the staircase.

At the bottom, she ran up to five students who were standing there, chatting nonchalantly, watching Ron fight the thing. "He needs to just hit it and stop dancing," Malfoy said casually.

Crabbe grunted agreement.

Pansy Parkinson demurred. "I'm not so sure that's such a good idea. You saw what that thing did to solid rock. I'd hate to think of what it could do to Weaselbee's bones if it connects with its scythe."

Hermione gaped at them, and then back at the fight. Her wand was hunting for an opening, but Ron kept moving in front of a clear shot. He was wearing the full Armor of Gryffindor, and carrying both of the matching batons. He was indeed dancing, far better than he ever did on the dance floor. It was somehow unfair that a shriveled creature from beyond death could push Ron to dance with its scythe, when Hermione had so much difficulty pulling him out on the dance floor herself.

Ron finally gave her a clear wand shot, but not willingly. The creature failed to follow one of his feints, and Ron's head connected solidly with the handle of the creature's scythe. He fell to the ground with a crash.

Hermione shouted, "Ron!" Then she realized that this was her chance. Ron was on the far side of the creature, and she couldn't ask for a better shot. "Petrificus Totalus!" she said loudly, with a flick. Her wand flashed, and the creature was bathed in white light. Now, it should fall to the ground paralyzed, she thought.

Instead, it turned towards her, and sneered, the remains of its face twisting sickeningly.

"Maybe she should have swished instead of flicking," Pansy murmured to Draco.

"Why are you still here?" Hermione asked. "Why aren't you running?"

"It only seems to go after Gryffindors," Malfoy said. "In fact, once Ron got here, it let the other Gryffindors go."

The creature spoke, its voice rasping with the sound of one unused to breathing. "Gryffindor! You will pay even as your master has paid."

Hermione bristled. "He's not my master."

The creature began to slump towards her, its scythe shining in the light.

"You better run, Mudblood," Parkinson said. "It looks like your boyfriend isn't going to do you much good."

Hermione backed towards the stairs. The creature kept coming for her. Things did not look good.

Then she inhaled, as miraculously, Ron rose up off the ground behind the creature. She worried that the creature would be warned by her reaction, but she worried needlessly. It was oblivious to her sudden hope, and Ron's baton struck it in the head without warning. The crack of broken bone resounded in the passage, but the creature was unfazed. It turned, swinging its scythe towards Ron, but he swung his other baton sharply against one of the creature's arms. The crack of bone breaking sounded again, and the creature's arm lost control of the scythe.

Again, and again, Ron landed blows with the batons, until the creature finally fell to the ground, a pile of loose rotten skin and cracked bone. Hermione rushed past the fallen creature to Ron's side and hugged him. "Are you okay? How is your head feeling?"

"I'll be all right," Ron said, wincing as he rubbed his hand against the side of his head. "You know I don't use it all that much anyway."

Hermione giggled in spite of herself, the sudden tension of the battle finally released. She pulled Ron close to her. Behind her, she heard Parkinson, Malfoy, and his bookends walking off, clearly disgruntled that the battle was over. Ron stiffened, and not in a good way. He looked over Hermione's shoulder. "Hermione," he said, "please tell me I'm seeing things."

Hermione turned slowly, unwilling to see what Ron was worried about. Soon enough, she saw, though. Where the creature had fallen, there was now nothing but a few bone chips and some dust. A trail of dust led off to a nearby heating vent near the floor. "You don't think it survived that, do you?" Ron asked.

"I don't know" Hermione said, her voice hollow. "I just don't know."

* * *

"There's something I'm missing," Hermione said, pulling on her lip. She was spending Saturday morning in the Gryffindor common room, revising for her NEWTs with Harry. Ron had announced that he was playing Ginny as Seeker in the final match of the season, leaving Harry to his own devices during practice today, and Hermione had seized on this opportunity to visit with him. Harry wasn't complaining much, since he felt terribly unprepared for his NEWTs, which would be coming in less than a month.

Harry looked up from his book, his brow furrowed with frustration, and looked at the stack of books covering the table. "You're kidding, right? You don't need another book, do you?"

"No," she said, "I don't mean that. It's not about the NEWTs at all. It's about the thing that attacked Ron."

"He bloody well smashed it up, didn't he?"

"He did," she said reluctantly, "but I'm not sure that's good enough. Just about anything alive would have died after having that happen to him, but what attacked Ron didn't look like it was actually alive."

"What are you suggesting? It didn't look like a vampire, did it?"

"No, not a vampire," Hermione agreed. "Something else. I'm not sure what, though." She gestured to the book she had open in front of her, which appeared to have a wide survey of different undead pictures.

"That's not for a NEWT, is it?" Harry asked.

"No, it's not," she agreed, "I can't get the thing out of my mind. The library's almost no help, though. There's next to nothing in there about the Undead. I had to special order this from Flourish and Botts." She held up the book, which had an Irish wizard's name written across the bottom, and the word Undead in all capital letters across the top.

"Does it have anything that looks similar?"

"I'm not sure," she said bleakly. "I'm only about half way through it, though. I wish it had a better index -- it's hard to know what I'm looking for until I find it."

"What, the index doesn't list 'Really Old Dead Thing that Just Won't Stop Coming?'"

"Not quite," she agreed, smirking. Then she flipped a page, and frowned. "Revenant. This could be it."

Harry leaned over. "It looks dead."

"Yes, it does," Hermione said. She was scanning the text intently. "And it also looks thirsty for revenge. These things are only created when someone with Magical blood is killed by another Magical without explicitly using Magic."

"That seems a little backwards."

"Not really. Magicals are always surrounded by magic, even if they don't mean to use it. That's how Ron smashed up the spider; his magic helped him. It made him stronger, better, faster. But he didn't use Magic to do it."

"That's not what I meant. I was thinking, how many Wizards would use something other than Magic to fight another Wizard, anyway?"

"Not many," Hermione agreed, "and listen to this -- when they do come back, these things keep coming until they've gotten revenge on whomever killed them."

"Hermione, there's no way that this thing could be after Ron for revenge. He's never killed a Magical in his life. I don't think he's ever killed anyone, unless you count the spider. The dead thing didn't have eight legs."

"I think it's older than that, anyway. But there's nothing here that says Revenants are perfect. In fact, it seems like they may be quite easily fooled."

"So it might only think that Ron was the one that killed it," Harry concluded.

"Exactly," Hermione agreed, "but now that it's after him, it probably won't stop until it kills him or it's finally put to rest."

"So, Ron will have to warm up the old Beater's Bat again, huh?" Harry said.

"I guess so," Hermione replied, reading down the page, "but I'm not sure that will be effective. He's already hit it more than once, and it's come back." Her eyes lit on another passage in the book. "I was afraid of this," she said, "it looks like it can't be put to rest by purely physical power, and even most magical curses will roll off of it. You need something more primeval, something magical but not what we would think of as a curse or a charm."

"I've never heard of anything like that," Harry said. "Is there such a thing?"

"There is," Hermione said, guardedly, "but I've only seen a few ways to handle that sort of power, and they're all dangerous."

"We'll need to talk to Dumbledore, then," Harry replied, "I can't think of anyone else that would know about that kind of magic, can you?"

"Not really," she confessed. She was pulling at her lip. She only knew one way of getting her hands on that power, and she really didn't want to claim it that way. She wouldn't ask anyone else to do it, though, and she might not have any other choice. Tucked away in her belt was a sales draft for the Dragon Book, showing where its final resting place was. On reflection, she should have known all along where it might be. She knew it was horrendously dangerous, by all accounts, even if she didn't quite understand why, but if it came for Ron again, she might not have a choice.

The painting slid open, and Neville ran inside, breathless. "Harry... Hermione," he wheezed.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, standing quickly.

"That thing, it's back. It's chasing Ron, down in the dungeons," Neville replied, holding his hand to his side.

"I'll go," Harry said, "You stay here with Hermione."

"No, wait," Hermione replied. "You can't stop it, Harry. At best, you'll slow it down a little. We can't risk you getting hurt, though. This could all be some sort of plot by You-Know-Who to put you in danger. You tell Dumbledore, and I'll see what I can do."

"You're not going after it, are you?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Not immediately," she said. "First, I'm going to the library."

* * *

Hermione apologized to Madam Pince as she pushed past her, knocking the librarian on her rear. She was headed straight for the Restricted Section. She felt the eyes of the other students on her, and heard Draco's gasp as she passed him.

Hermione heard Madam Pince shrill complaints behind her, but she ignored them. They weren't particularly relevant right now. Her strides were purposeful, and her boots echoed on the floor. She waved her wand at the locked door that guarded the section, murmuring an unlocking charm. She entered, hardly slowing down, and fixed her gaze on the far shelf.

There was an empty space there, where the dragon book should have been. Hermione turned, to see Irma Pince walking towards her. "Young lady, you should be ashamed of yourself..."

"Where's the book!" Hermione snapped, interrupting her diatribe.

"The book?" Madame Pince looked incredulous. "We have quite a few of those, but I don't think you'll be taking any of them today. I believe we need to have a talk with Professor McGonagall about your behavior."

Hermione interrupted again, "I need the book that was right here. The Dragoj Artos."

The blood drained from Madame Pince's face. "I don't know what you think you are talking about, but that book is certainly not one that any student should be looking at. There are wards to prevent a student from even being able to take it from the shelf. Explain yourself!"

Hermione had no intention of explaining anything right now, as out of character as it might seem. "The book was here before. I need it. Now. We can talk to McGonagall later, but I need the book right now."

"You sound far too sure of yourself, young lady. You have no inherent right to take books out of my library. And, whatever you may think, you have no right to read that book!"

Hermione was taken aback by Madame Pince's vehemence, but she responded by growing even more forceful. "I will apologize at length, later, but right now, there's a life at risk. Where is that book?"

Hermione saw someone toss something heavy at her, from behind Madame Pince. She reached out her hands, but didn't catch the book before it hit her lightly in the stomach. She grabbed at it, stopping it from falling entirely to the ground. It was the book that she had been looking for, but she was surprised to see who had given it to her.

"Why are you giving it to me? I thought you wanted this for yourself."

"Have it," Draco Malfoy said, his face sneering. "If someone's going to play the hero, it might as well be you. At least that's better than it being a Weasley."

Madame Pince's face was twisted in horror. "That book should not be maltreated like this! I will go straight to Headmaster Dumbledore, and have you both expelled!"

"Oh, put a sock in it," Draco snorted. "If you try, my mother will make it so that the next time you step in a library, it'll be in a Muggle Nursery School."

Hermione found herself conflicted, for a moment. She understood why Madame Pince was so angry, and under other circumstances, would have entirely agreed with her. However, she had to appreciate having Draco's nepotism working for her, instead of against her.

"Thanks," she said to Draco. "I'm sorry," she said to Madame Pince, "you'll get your book back when I'm done." Hermione ignored Madame Pince's consternation and Draco's smirk, and marched straight towards the door, the book tucked under her arm. Now it was time for the hard part.

Hermione didn't have any time to waste, but she was determined to do this right. She had the book open in front of her, candles lit in a circle around her. Beside her was a stack of books almost four feet tall, containing every curse and charm that she could get her hands on. She hoped that it would be enough.

She chanted, now. The chants weren't magical in and of themselves; they were a focusing mechanism, to help her settle her thoughts. That would be difficult today, but it was necessary. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of crashes or attacks. The Revenant wasn't being dissuaded easily today.

Then Hermione began to read the spells. There were seven of them, each short incantations, each almost powerless by itself, but they built on each other to unlock the power in her and in the books, and to tie them together.

As she read the fifth spell, the tower of books ignited in front of her. Hermione had expected it, but it still startled her. She kept the rhythm going, however, reading the sixth spell quickly.

As she intoned the seventh spell, the books combusted. There was a searing bright light that filled the room. Clouds of light swirled around her, and she shrieked in anguish from the pain. Her skin itched as the clouds settled on her. She could feel the remains of the books trying to get through her skin. The clouds started to swirl around her eyes and ears, and then forced themselves through her nostrils. She choked, slightly.

As the mist penetrated her, she started to hear whispering. She shook her head, trying to make it go away, but it got louder. She could hear dozens of voices whispering nearby, but she couldn't quite place them. The whisper became a drone, and then became louder.

She fell to her knees, all of her senses overwhelmed, and then she toppled forward, knowing only darkness.

-----------------------------

A/N - Some small portion of the next chapter will be from Ron's PoV. Thought I'd warn you to avoid confusion.


	18. The Stunning Conclusion, Part Two

Chapter Eighteen - The Stunning Conclusion, Part Two

"Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius,

power and magic in it."

- Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

Ron limped quickly down the corridor as quickly as he could. Each step caused enough pain for him to wince and grunt through gritted teeth, but he wasn't slowing down. The thing behind him was more than enough incentive to keep going.

He had tried to make a stand twice against it, but both times, the wounds he gave it healed back within seconds. The thing wouldn't stop coming. Neville had fallen partway down the stairs during the second combat, and had shouted over to him that it was hopeless. The thing couldn't be killed by his bat, but Harry and Hermione were both going for help.

He hoped that they would hurry up. The undead creature wasn't fast, but it wasn't slowed down by things like walls or doors. It came through them at its slow, loping, pace. A few of the Professors had tried to stand against it, but their magics hadn't proven any better than his best efforts. He still had some hope, however. He hadn't seen Professors Valek, Snape, McGonagall, or Dumbledore, and Ron thought that as long as they were still out there, he had a chance.

"Over here," Snape's voice commanded from a room up ahead, and Ron thought his timing was impeccable. Ron accelerated his limping, quickly coming around the corner and turning into Snape's office. "There's a passageway behind my desk," Snape said, "which will take you up to the grounds. If you can make your way to the pitch, you should be able to get on a broomstick. Hurry."

Ron limped towards the open hole in the stone. He hadn't even suspected that this passageway existed. He wondered why it wasn't on the Marauder's Map. Could he add it? Something to worry about later. If there was a later.

Behind him, he heard Snape begin whipping curse after curse at the Revenant and the surrounding area. Loud thuds and bangs testified to the Professor's effort, but in the end, a strangled cry let Ron know that he had better not slow down.

Ron came out of the ground near the wall of the school. He fixed his eyes on the Pitch, and kept limping. He tried to ignore the sounds from behind him, the sign that the thing chasing him had not given up yet. He heard the crashing of stone, and spells flying back and forth. Then everything was still behind him, absolutely still.

A horrid voice yelled out, "Gryffindor!"

Ron didn't look back. There was no point, nothing he had thrown at the thing had done any lasting harm.

It called out again, "Gryffindor! I will be your death, as you were mine!" It was getting closer.

Ron refused to turn back, but he called over his shoulder. "I don't know what you're talking about, you bloody nuisance."

From somewhere above the wall, Ron heard Luna's voice. "No, Ron, the Bloody Nuisance was caught last year in Devonshire, pretending to be a bunch of pixies."

Ron snorted, but didn't stop running. "Look, whatever you are, I'm not your enemy. I don't know you, and I certainly wasn't your death, your mate, or your cousin's neighbor's nephew. Just leave me alone, and I'll stop whacking you with the stick."

The thing's only answer was the scraping as it chased after him. Instead, the last voice that he had expected answered him, from a place he expected even less. From directly above, Hermione called down, "He thinks you're Godric Gryffindor, Ron."

~.~.~

Hermione was uneasy, but she had faced worse things than flying on a broomstick two dozen feet above the ground. It wasn't like she could fail a class if she fell, although she would have to make certain not to fall on her writing hand. She was holding tight to Ginny, who had volunteered to fly her out here.

Hermione shrieked in alarm, as Ron stopped in his tracks, dumbfounded, to look up at her. Didn't she know the Revenant was close behind him? Apparently not. The Revenant caught up with him, and swung its scythe at Ron's head. Ginny abruptly pointed the broomstick straight down, and Hermione shrieked again, this time in a more personal terror, as Ginny knocked Ron out of the way of the blow. Hermione rolled off the broomstick, and stood there, facing the Revenant.

For a moment, they were all silent. Then Hermione spoke. "You look a great deal uglier in person than you did in your pictures, Professor Slytherin."

Slytherin's bones arranged themselves in the semblance of a scowl, and he briefly looked unaccountably like Severus Snape, if somewhat thinner. His hair was actually an improvement. "Girl, get out of my way. I'm here for Gryffindor."

"Hermione," Ron asked from the ground. "What have you done to yourself?"

Hermione knew she was quite a sight. Her hair, normally useless, was on its way to becoming something only Medusa could love. Static electricity was raising the ends of her hair above her head. Hermione didn't know if Ron had seen the worst of it yet, since between her vantage point and her robes, he couldn't see much of her skin. From behind, he couldn't see the text scrolling like a theatre marquee, words of power in many different languages. The power she had unleashed in the library had given her amazing power at the cost of some of her humanity, had pulled magic from the books that surrounded her.

No matter how much of a sight she was, the Revenant was worse. She faced him down. "Slytherin, one thing you should know about Gryffindors, is if you take on one of us, you take on all of us."

"Gryffindor, if there's one thing you should know about Slytherins, it's that we wouldn't have it any other way." He swung the his scythe towards her with both hands.

Hermione stumbled as she tried to dodge, the curved blade swinging all too close to her. There was a crackle in the air and a smell of ozone, and blue sparks jumped from her skin, deflecting the blade. It skimmed by, less than an inch from her hair. Pity, it might have been an improvement.

"I thought magic couldn't hurt him?" Ron asked. "Snape couldn't even slow him down all that much."

"Normal magic can't hurt him," Hermione agreed. "But this isn't exactly normal." Blue sparks formed on her skin, forming the shapes of symbols.

Slytherin's scythe swung towards her again, and this time, she lifted a hand. She tried not to flinch as the blade swung at her arm, and hid her surprise when the blade connected with a clang.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, but she shook her head.

"I didn't feel a thing, Ron," she said, feeling suddenly angry with him for feeling so concerned. "I'm fine. Just stay behind me."

"Gryffindor, you surprise me," Slytherin responded. "Dealing with magicks that were forbidden even in my day. Do you think you can stop me? Do you think that anything you can do will hurt me?"

"I don't know," Hermione responded. Her face twisted. "Tell me, how does this feel?" She punched her hand out into his left arm, penetrating through the bone, and ripped it off.

He looked at her, his bare jaw flapping. "Ow," he said.

"Say goodnight, Slytherin," she said, and punched out again. This time, she aimed at his head. Salazar Slytherin didn't get the chance to say good night. His formerly undead corpse crumbled to the ground, and quickly decayed to ash.

Hermione cracked her knuckles. "I think that just about does it. Who's next?"

"Not me," Ron said, "Bloody Hell, Hermione. What have you done to yourself?"

Hermione didn't answer. She heard the sound of deep breathing coming from the castle. Neville was pounding down the path towards where they stood, on the outskirts of the Quidditch Pitch. He ran up next to Hermione, and fell down to his knees, wheezing and panting.

"It's all over, Neville," Ron said. "Hermione kicked his tail. We're safe now."

He shook his head, gasping. "No."

"What's wrong, Neville?" Hermione asked. "We took care of the bloody evil dead thing, or whatever Lovegood is calling it. He won't be bothering us anymore."

"Death Eaters, they're in the castle. I heard them say they're looking for Harry."


	19. Honestly, this time I almost mean it

Chapter Nineteen - Honestly, this time I almost mean it

"About the time we think we can make ends meet, somebody moves the ends."

- Herbert Hoover

A girl was screaming. Hermione thought she was a Hufflepuff, but there was too much smoke for her to tell for sure. She saw two Gryffindors laying in the hallway, not moving. She hoped they were just Petrified, but feared that it was something worse. She didn't see any Death Eaters, but she didn't think she was very far behind them. The Hufflepuff's throat wasn't raw from screaming yet.

Ron was next to her, limping as fast as he could manage. "Where do you think they're going? They could be anywhere."

The air was pierced by a shriek, a piercing sound that made Hermione's ears feel like they were bleeding. "The Fat Lady," she said. She started running, leaving Ron behind despite his protests. The painting was already open when she got there. She ran up into the Gryffindor common room, stepping over the still bodies of two Death Eaters and a Gryffindor student. She couldn't bear to look too closely at the student. Grieving would have to wait.

The common room was quiet, and she had to strain to hear the rasping whispers of Peter Pettigrew, who was standing over Harry, holding a wand. Pettigrew seemed almost sorry for his offense. "Potter, I don't have to kill you today, you know, I just need the amulet."

Harry was still. His sightless gaze was focused on the ceiling, but Hermione thought she saw a shallow breath. _Focus_, she told herself. Harry had to be alive, he just had to be. But whether or not he was, she still needed to deal with Pettigrew.

"Peter Pettigrew," she said firmly, staring at him. He didn't respond. "Wormtail," she snapped. "Look at me when I'm talking to you." Wormtail didn't respond, he kept murmuring to Harry.

From the floor beside her, she heard Lavender's voice. "Hermione, is that you? What on Earth has happened to you?" Hermione ignored her, but it seemed to shake Wormtail. He turned towards Lavender. "Didn't I petrify you downstairs?"

"No, you git, you stunned me upstairs," Lavender snapped back. "What's the matter with He Who Must Be Named, can't he get any good help?"

"Don't provoke him, Brown," Hermione said, trying to gain control of the situation before Wormtail started loosing any more curses. "He's mine." She walked towards Wormtail, who was now warily pointing a wand towards her.

"Yours, am I?" Wormtail asked, smirking. "My days of being an animal are over. I don't belong to anyone."

"Really," Hermione looked past him. "Did you hear that, Mr. Riddle?"

Wormtail twisted his head around wildly, but his master was nowhere to be seen.

Hermione laughed as she walked towards him. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist that. Good to know how independent you are."

Wormtail scowled back at her, and lifted up his wand, with her only feet in front of him. "Avada..." he started, but Hermione interrupted him with an open hand smack to the sternum tossing him back against the wall. Something cracked when he landed, but he kept hold of his wand. He was muttering something under his breath. "Underestimated you," he coughed, "you're a lot like me. Everyone sees what they want to see," he rhymed, "but no one sees what you could be."

"I'm not like you, you... you miserable worm," Hermione spat, walking over to him. "And isn't that a bit cliche, even for you? The villian, telling the heroine how they're both alike. Everyone's had both of them pegged their whole life, everyone knows what they can and can't do. Always watching someone else standing in the front, always watching other people getting top billing, knowing that they secretly think that you're just there to support the others."

Suddenly looking much more chipper, Wormtail chuckled, "You're right, we're nothing like each other at all." His sunny disposition made Hermione unaccountably angry. She stomped on his lower leg, rewarded by a sickening crunch. Then she picked him by his neck, slowly strangling him. There was the smell of something burning, something much like animal hair, and a waft of smoke coming from the place where her hand touched his skin. Wormtail squealed, wriggling in panic.

"Hermione!" Lavender shrieked from beside her.

"What?" Hermione snapped at Lavender, turning her head slightly, but still keeping her gaze firmly on Wormtail. Energy crackled from her fingers, and the words of the books that she had drained ran across her skin, like faint magical tattoos.

"You can't do this," Lavender said, "please, Hermione, don't do this."

"Why shouldn't I?" she asked, looking back at Wormtail. He was trying not to meet her eyes. He looked pitiful, as he always did, but she didn't have any pity to spare for him.

"Because you're Hermione Granger. You're the one who holds everything together," Lavender said, pleading with her, "You aren't one of them, you just can't be. You can't just be a killer. You're supposed to be more than that."

Hermione looked down at her hand, and dropped Wormtail. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath, and began to limp away, transforming into a rat as he went. "Not this time," Lavender said, grabbing his tail and tossing him into a small box. Hermione slammed the lid down on the box, trapping him inside.

She smiled at Lavender, "Thank you."

"Happy to help. We don't need any more vermin hanging around Hogwarts. We've already got a whole house of them."

"That's not what I meant," Hermione said, making eye contact with her, and then breaking away in shame. "Thank you for stopping me."

"No problem, Hermione. What are friends for?" Lavender said.


	20. Paybacks: A Witch

Chapter Twenty - Paybacks: A Witch

Medwind crossed her arms and leaned against a fence. "Actions have consequences, Faia. First rule of magic, first rule of life. And the second rule is this-you are the only one responsible for your own actions." - "Fire in the Mist", Holly Lisle

Hermione opened the door slowly, hoping that it would be quiet. She winced as a loud creak testified that the door needed oiling, or at least that Hogwarts was one of the few castles with a well developed sense of dramatic irony.

"Yes?" Madam Pince snapped querolously at the door. "You do know that the Library is now closing?" She hadn't looked up yet.

Hermione slid in through the door, and walked towards the Librarian, holding up the book that she had borrowed without permission in front of her as a piece offering. Hermione could feel the books around her, could smell the ink, could hear the rustling of pages coming from books around her that hadn't been opened in years. She forced herself to resist, however, as she put the book on the counter in front of Madam Pince.

"So," the Librarian sniffed, still not meeting Hermione's eyes, "You've brought it back. I suppose you think that makes it all right that you took it?"

"I had no choice, Madam Pince. I'm sure you've heard by now what happened."

"I hear everything," Pince said, closing the book she had been reading. Hermione felt a hunger for it. She had never even seen the book before, but the title proclaimed it was a Collection of Elemental Magicks. Hermione had to fight to keep her hands at her side, when they were clearly trying to move towards the book of their own accord. Would the rest of her life be like this? She'd always been hungry for books, but it had been a strictly intellectual problem up until now. It was primal, now. It wasn't a figurative hunger – it was a literal feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"You must understand. I did what I had to do," Hermione said, forcing herself to look at the Librarian. Staring at her, to avoid shifting her gaze to a delicious, delectable, dictionary, Hermione noticed something odd. Pince was wearing a thin layer of makeup, normally a Muggle conceit, and not one that Hermione would have thought of her. That wasn't what was truly odd, though. What made Hermione swallow, hard, was that the makeup was starting to steam.

"Girl, you have no concept of what you _have_ to do," Pince said, with an unexpected contempt in her voice. "Do you even understand what you have done to yourself? What your choice will cost you?" A wind blew through the library, flipping the pages of books that had been carelessly left open. Madam Pince's hair stayed completely still, not moving an inch, although quills blew off the desk. Her eyes had gone jet black, no sign of anything other than pupil, and shapes moved across her skin.

Hermione gaped. "You did it, too. You used the book."

"Of course I did, fool girl, when I had as little sense as you. I had as good a reason, I thought, but, like you, I knew nothing." There was the sound of something big falling behind Hermione. She looked behind her, and saw that a huge bolt had fallen into place into the huge catches on the Library doors, closing them tightly with her inside.

Madam Pince smiled, looking more than a little batty. "Now, Miss Granger, we will discuss your library fines." Letters flitted across her skin, climbing over wrinkles, sliding back and forth. There were dozens of different sentences crossing her face at the same time. Hermione could see Aramaic, Cyrillic, and Norse Runes, along with dozens of other scripts. She even saw something that looked like Java, although she'd only seen that at home. The few wizards that were also interested in Muggle computers seemed to be more into Perl.

The dragon book enabled its user to tap into a collective memory, a source of overwhelming power hidden inside every book and scroll ever written. The power of words had given Hermione the ability to triumph against powerful wizards, and she had only used a small fraction of the number of books that Madam Pince would have had access to. Hermione felt more afraid of the Librarian than she had of Salazar Slytherin's revenant.

Books started to move between the shelves quickly, their pages flapping wildly in the wind that was blowing through the library. Pince hopped into the air, hanging five feet off the ground. She swept a hand towards Hermione, and books flew out towards her.

Hermione hadn't quite figured out how to do that yet. She dropped to her knees, letting two Muggle studies textbooks and a particularly horrid mystery novel fly overhead. At least Pince wasn't using anything that would be missed.

Then she saw an Ancient Runes text skew towards her head. Hermione threw her hands up in a futile attempt o defend herself, but the bruising impact knocked her on her back. Another book grazed within an inch of her face, but she heard a welcome, calming voice.

"That will be quite enough, Madam Pince," Dumbledore said in a soft, measured voice. Hermione looked up, and saw dozens of books stopped in mid-flight. "Miss Granger," the Headmaster continued, "you will come to find that the Dragon book holds you at least as much as you hold its power. In its harsh mastery, you will find yourself acting territorially towards books – all books, not just that one. While this may not be much of a change for one as studious as you, you must guard against letting your heart belong to the books, lest you lose your humanity."

Pince stood there through Dumbledore's lecture, her lips tightly pressed together. The books didn't move, they just floated in space. There was an uneasy moment of silence, then Dumbledore said, quietly, "Madam Pince, _enough_. Set the books down. Let them go."

Hermione's sigh of relief was drowned out by the sound of Friedman's Little Runester crashing down on her head.

"Oh, dear," Hermione heard Dumbledore said before she lost consciousness, "that was a poor choice of words."

Hermione woke in her familiar bed in the infirmary. That bed was a special friend of hers, especially late in the school year. She wasn't alone. Three young students were there, recovering victims of the revenant's attack. Hunter, who had been unconscious for months, was there, too, but he was now awake and conversing away with Jalaja. She felt leather in between her hands, and looked down. She still had the Dragon Book. She was surprised that Pince had let her keep it, but perhaps Dumbledore had something to do with it.

Ron was sitting by the foot of the bed, gazing up at her hopefully. He had his own collection of bruises and scrapes, but as his eyes met hers, the smile that lit his face showed no awareness of any of them, or anything else.

"I missed you," he said. "Blimey, Hermione, you've got to stop doing this to me."

"Doing this to _you_, Ron? I don't see you here in bed." Her smile took away the sting of the words.

"I'd love to be there, 'Mione, but I think there's too much of an audience," he said softly.

She blushed, "Really, Ron? Are you sure I'm the one you'd want to be with?"

"Always, Hermione," Ron said. "Look, I'm sorry…"

"No, I understand, Ron," Hermione interrupted. "All of us – we all do this. We get tied up in some plan of our own, we don't tell each other about it, and things go wrong. Somehow, we do this every year, and it never works. I forgive you, Ron…. But this is the last time. If you care about me, Ron, you need to tell me what's going on, even if you think it's dangerous."

"All right, Hermione," Ron said. "I'll tell you everything. What was really happening… what it was."

"Not now," she said, looking over at Hunter and Jalaja. "Later, when we're alone."

"You don't think we need to worry about them, do you?" Ron whispered. "Hunter spent most of his recent history as a statuary."

"I'm not sure," Hermione bit her lip. "There's something wrong. Something that doesn't fit." She watched Hunter and Jalaja talking – well, really Jalaja talking, Hunter putting up with her. "When did he wake up?"

"Soon after you… you know, you killed the…"

"The revenant?" Hermione said. "What would that have had to do with it? Why would Salazar Slytherin have petrified Hunter?"

Ron whispered, "Maybe he was jealous – do you think Jalaja was his type?"

Hermione stifled a giggle. "No, I don't think so." Then, she blinked. "In fact, I kind of wonder if Jalaja is Hunter's type," she whispered back, looking over at him. "I need to talk to Luna."

"I don't think she's Jalaja is her type, either," Ron blinked.

"Probably not, Ron, but she said something a while ago, in between talking about the Deranged Dragon and the Carnivorous Flying Squirrels, that struck me as odd at the time."

With uncommon wisdom, Ron didn't make the obvious comment. Hermione gave him half a second anyway, just to be sure, before she continued.

"Let's go, Ron."

"Hermione, you just woke up…."

"We need to get this finished, Ron, before everyone goes home for the summer. If nothing else, I need to be able to finish off my Newts with a clear head." Ignoring his protestations and avoiding the ministrations of her caretaker, Hermione quickly ducked into the lavatory to change and walked purposefully towards the cafeteria, where she hoped to find Luna in the process of eating. She realized at that point that Ron had missed a meal to sit by her side. He really did care. She slipped her hand into his as they walked up to Luna together.

"Hermione!" Luna greeted her warmly, although several others seemed to edge away – probably people who had heard something about her role in defeating the revenant. Or facing down the librarian. Or maybe it was just the way her hair looked, a result of going straight from the medical ward to the lunchroom without so much as a charm to put it in order.

"I'm so glad to see you awake," Luna continued. "I was beginning to wonder how long you'd stay up there." Then her eyes shifted left and right, and she looked up at Hermione, whispering. "It is you, right? Father said that there were shapeshifters running loose. One of them took his newspaper from his porch the other morning."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I'm afraid it's just me. I needed to ask you something, though."

"Ask away…"

"Hunter's awake, and he and Jalaja are as close as ever. Didn't you say something about him breaking up with Jalaja last year?"

"Well, I don't know about that, but he asked for permission to write me. I told him he could, let him know a private address. I got the feeling he was feeling me out, that he might have been a little sweet on me. But he didn't go anywhere with it."

"He didn't send you anything? Or did anyone"

"Not that I know of. I did get a strange rock. And I won a case of butterbeer."

"Butterbeer? From some kind of contest?"

"Not sure, really. The box didn't say why. My father wouldn't let me drink it, though, so we left it outside for the House Elves."

"Really? Did they do anything odd?"

"They wouldn't drink it, either. Uncapped it, and said it smelled off. A real shame to let it go to waste, but there wasn't any choice. Why are you so curious?"

"I was thinking about Jalaja, and how she's acting towards Hunter. It doesn't seem rational. I wondered if he might have had some supernatural aid. And if so, I wondered if he might have tried with you first."

"So you think that perhaps Jalaja was his second choice? I suppose that's comforting."

"She's not even close to the same league as you. He must have wanted something. What do you have in common?"

"Not access to Harry – I don't think he's ever noticed that Jalaja exists."

"Then something else. I think we need to keep an eye on both of them," Hermione stated flatly.

"Agreed," Luna said. "Do you suppose it might not be Hunter's fault? Maybe someone else is taking control of him, too." This was the longest conversation Hermione had ever had with Luna without her saying something loopy. A moment to remember.

Luna continued, "Or maybe he just got hit with a Wrackspurt. They can mess with your head, make you do irrational things." And, the moment was over. Hermione excused herself, making her way to the library. Madam Pince didn't meet Hermione's eyes, which was fine with her. Hermione wasn't looking for another confrontation. Not with Madam Pince, at least.

She looked quietly through the stacks. She could feel the power of the books around her, but didn't draw against it. The words didn't show up on her skin. She wasn't looking for a book today, or for magic energy. She was looking for a different kind of power, her more usual kind. Knowledge. She saw the person she was looking for.

Hermione sidled towards Malfoy. He pretended not to see her, staring fixedly ahead at the shelf. She whispered quietly, "So, what are you here for?"

"A book, what do you think, Granger?"

"Really, you're looking for a book on…" Hermione studiously picked a book off the shelf, "Magical Clown Makeup? I never would have guessed."

"I was looking for something to give Crabbe and Goyle for Christmas," Draco said dryly. "What else do you give the pawn that has everything?"

"Very thoughtful of you. And here I thought you were looking for a way to get to the other side of this shelf, to the restricted section."

"Perish the thought," Malfoy said. "You may enjoy irritating the librarian, but we Malfoys have an image to maintain."

"As vicious, contemptuous, killers who can't help chasing after He Who Must Not Be Named? You're right, stealing a library book isn't quite up to your usual standards. Besides, what use would you have for it?"

"Would you believe I need a little light reading?"

"You call this light reading?" Hermione said, pulling the Dragon Book out of her bag.

Draco stared at it with hungry eyes. He inhaled deeply. "Well, maybe not light. But I suppose it might be more appropriate that a book on enhancing the size of your nose. Would you like to trade?"

"I don't think so, Malfoy," she slipped it back into the bag. He shook his head, and drew out a long, slow, breath. "But if you'd like to talk to me about why you need it all of a sudden, I'm willing to listen."

"You're not the only one dealing with powerful, evil, forces, Granger. Some of us are dealing with curses you know nothing about."

"And what kind of curse might a Malfoy have to deal with?"

"The kind that even incredible power might not be enough to handle. But it's worth a try."

"Malfoy, I'm not saying that we're on the same side, but you haven't tried to kill any of us lately. And we're not trying to kill you."

"Granger, you're getting all mushy, it's embarrassing. What are you trying to say?"

"If you're dealing with a big evil of your own, and there's something we can do to help, I'm willing to do what I can for you."

Malfoy sobered up. "I'll keep that in mind." He pushed past Granger, and walked off.


End file.
